


The Hardest Part of Loving You

by theskywasblue



Series: Building Blocks [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Espionage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-19
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:59:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kakashi accepts a mission that means lying to Iruka, and may put him in more danger than he realizes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kakashi read the mission scroll for the third time and, after deciding that he didn't understand it any better than he had the first time, closed it with a flick of his wrist and locked eyes with the Hokage.

"Excuse me for saying so – but wouldn't this mission be better suited to someone less…high profile?"

Tsunade gave him a very long, hard look, tenting her fingers on the desktop, "_High profile_ is exactly what they're looking for Hatake. These people want the best that our village has to offer."__

"You don't think this might be a little like swatting a fly with a sledgehammer?"

Tsunade laughed, "Perhaps…or perhaps an interested party of you…calibre…will be just enough to lure all the rats out of their nest. Besides which, I have planned for the possibility that they won't agree to talk to you. I have other ninja on standby for this mission."

"And you wouldn't rather use one of them?"

Tsunade straightened up in her chair and regarded Kakashi with dark seriousness, "You don't want to do it, do you?"

It was only Kakashi's shinobi training that kept him from shifting on the balls of his feet like a nervous child, "I want what's best for the mission – what will give it the most chance of succeeding."

"That's bullshit Hatake, and you know it."

Trust the woman to look right through him. Kakashi repressed a sigh.

"I don't like covert ops," He said finally, "especially not inside the village. They always complicate things."

"You never objected to them before," She leaned back in her chair and fixed him with a wry smile, "But of course now you actually have a life that you don't want to get _complicated_ right?"

Kakashi pretended to be very enchanted by his toes.

"You're the best choice for this mission."

Kakashi bit back another sigh, "You're not going to give me a choice are you?"

"Not really, no."

This time, Kakashi did sigh, squaring his shoulders and doing his damnedest to appear like the professional he was supposed to be, "Very well Hokage-sama."

Tsunade rolled her eyes at him, producing a slim white file from inside her desk, "You can hold on to the scroll – now that you've read it, it can only be read again once touched by your chakra. This file, however, you won't be able to keep, so you'd better take a good look."

Kakashi stepped forward and opened the file, pushing his headband up and scanning the contents with his Sharingan. It contained the photograph and stats of one Moreo Arata, a 29 year old Chunin of no great distinction, with a handful of B-rank missions to his credit, but mostly C and D-rank, no record as a squad leader, and several complaints against him for insubordination and inaction in the field.

"What's a guy like this still doing holding rank?"

Tsunade shrugged, shaking her head almost miserably, "He fell under the radar after Sandaime's death. It has recently come to our attention that he is selling Konoha secrets. But that's not the most important issue at hand here. It's very possible that he's not only working as a spy, but as a recruiter."

"For who?"

Tsunade leaned across the desk, "The problem is that we haven't been able to figure that out just by watching him. It could be anyone at this point – Orochimaru…Akatsuki…maybe someone else entirely. What we need now is someone worth recruiting – someone he'll be willing to let down his guard to get his hands on…and who better than the infamous Hatake Kakashi? You're both veterans of the last war – that should give you a jumping off point to start a dialogue with him."

Kakashi readjusted his headband, straightening up, "I have made it very clear that I don't think this is going to work, right?"

Tsunade got up from her chair and walked to the window, making it very clear that she wasn't going to put up with any more protests, "This mission is to be carried out in the strictest secrecy. You will tell no one what you are doing, and will report directly to me with any and all information you might gather."

"What about…"

"Iruka?" Tsunade interjected. Kakashi could see her reflection in the glass smiling almost sadly, "No one means _no one_ – Not even Iruka. We don't know how many people Moreo's already recruited."

Kakashi felt a sudden burn of righteous indignation rise in his chest, "Iruka would never…"

"Please…" Tsunade laughed sharply, "I have the utmost faith in Umino Iruka's loyalty to this village. But in a situation like this, the walls have ears. No one can know what you're doing – not even Iruka."

Kakashi worried on the inside of his lip. This was not the kind of situation that he wanted to be getting himself into. Covert operations were always a pain in the ass. And he really, really didn't like the idea of having to lie to Iruka – even if it was for a mission.

"Now," Tsunade turned back and studied him carefully. Kakashi was glad that he had the mask to hide his face – but didn't doubt that she would still be able to see some of the reluctance in his eyes. She wasn't one of the Sannin for nothing, "I'm going to send you on a brief recon mission with him – just enough to break the ice between you. I'll classify it as A-rank – he's been begging for some higher level missions. After that, as far as anyone knows, you're on leave. You have an awful lot of vacation days coming to you…"

"You're not going to count this as a vacation I hope," Kakashi grumbled bitterly. He had been saving those days for a nice, romantic escape to a nearby hot spring for Iruka's birthday.

"This isn't a vacation Hatake," Tsunade sighed, "That's just your cover. I leave it up to you how to approach Moreo after your cover-mission is over. Remember, report only to me and…"

"Tell no one," he finished dryly, "yes, I understand."

Tsunade looked for a moment as if she was deciding whether or not to call him on his impertinence, but she finally decided that it wasn't worth the effort and dismissed him with a wave of her hand and a curt "Good luck."

Outside on the roof, Kakashi took a moment to study the scroll one last time before he sealed it with his chakra. This mission was going to be a damn pain in the ass, he could feel it already. But of course, he was a shinobi of Konoha, and he would do what was required of him, even if it was difficult and painful; even if he hated it.

Even if it meant lying to Iruka.

He'd make it up to the younger man afterwards – maybe with an extended stay in that nice spa in Tea Country that had the privately partitioned hot springs for each room. Surely that would do it.

With a quick glance at the sun to determine the time of day, he tucked the sealed scroll into the deepest pocket of his vest and sprang off in the direction of the academy, arriving just as the end of day bell was ringing. He lounged in the hall, pretending to read Icha Icha while the classroom emptied out, then strolled casually in and leaned against Iruka's desk, watching over the top of his book as his lover wiped the days lessons off the blackboard. Iruka knew he was there, of course, and was playing the whole thing up, exaggerating every movement that he made – especially in his hips, so that Kakashi's attention was drawn inevitably to Iruka's fine, firm ass.

Any other day it would have had Kakashi chomping at the bit to get home and get Iruka out of those cumbersome pants, but that day it just awakened a soft ache in the depths of his chest. This mission was not only going to be dangerous and time consuming, but it was going to take him away from Iruka – and he wasn't going to be able to explain why.

"Kakashi…is something wrong?"

He started, not even aware that Iruka had been watching him, "Uh – no," he closed up his book and tucked it away, "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Iruka frowned at him, "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Kakashi smiled as widely as he could, summoning all his skills to make it seem genuine as he stood and draped his arms over Iruka's shoulders, "In fact, I have good news."

"Really?" Iruka's face lit up with almost childish excitement as he wound his arms around Kakashi's hips, making Kakashi have to swallow back a lump of guilt and regret, "What is it?"

"After my mission tomorrow…I'm on vacation."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi meets Moreo Arata - and a mission goes south.

From the first moment they met, Kakashi knew he wasn't going to like Moreo Arata. The man looked like someone had shit perpetually in his cornflakes from the time he was a very small boy. His face was sickly pale, almost jaundiced, framed by unevenly cut, greasy black hair, and his brow was knit into a permanent scowl. He wore his Chunin vest like it was a canvas sack, at least two sizes too big for his body, which although he was tall and reasonably muscular after the fashion of all shinobi, seemed permanently stuck in that stage of awkward, gangly adolescence. He glared at Kakashi from behind his lank bangs with complete disdain. If he had been a Genin, Kakashi would have smacked him upside the head.

As it was, he nearly did it anyway.

"So you're the great Sharingan Kakashi…" even his voice – low and grating as if he had just smoked a pack of cigarettes for breakfast – irritated Kakashi, "You don't look like much."

It took Kakashi a moment to respond, scowling over top of his Icha Icha volume. If he was supposed to be winning Arata's trust he couldn't very well respond with the most scathing retort he had in mind.

"Well," he said finally, "That's sort of the point."

Arata snorted in disgust. Kakashi ignored him.

The other members of their squad were two teenagers fresh from their Chunin exams, obviously all a-twitter at the idea of working with the famous Sharingan Kakashi. He paid attention just long enough to learn their names – Karin and Hakaru – before he set about ignoring them too.

The "mission" – recon on the borders of Sound – was largely legit as far as Kakashi could tell, only that the ranking had been bumped up slightly. It was probably better suited to be a mid-B-rank as their orders were not to engage the enemy whenever possible.

They spent the first of three nights camping along the border with Sound, shivering in an unseasonable rain, unable to even light a campfire because it might give away their position.

Kakashi was used to miserable missions, used to being cold, wet and hungry for the sake of his village. Hakaru and Karin, by virtue of the fact that they had until recently been Genin, probably were too. Arata should have been used to it; but that didn't stop him from complaining incessantly, about anything and everything, until Kakashi distracted himself with imagining all the painful things he could do to get the bastard to shut up.

"This is total bullshit…" Arata growled, shifting irritably under the water-proof blanket that covered him, "Sending us out here, and we're not even allowed to fight the enemy…only a woman would ever do something so pointless and wasteful."

"Hey!" Karin protested sharply, fixing him with a furious gaze that would have stopped the heart of a wiser man, "Don't talk about Hokage-sama like that!"

"Why not?" He demanded, "She hasn't done shit all about this Otogakure bullshit except have decent ninja sitting around in the dark playing with themselves."

"Maybe that's what you're doing," Hakaru cut in, "but the rest of us…"

"That's enough," Kakashi snapped, and three pairs of furious eyes turned in his direction, "Everyone's entitled to their own opinion – but keep it to yourselves for now. You're on a mission for your village – act like it."

He hoped that was sufficiently in the middle ground to avoid getting any one of the three overly mad at him; of course he didn't really care once they were all sullenly silent.

***

The next morning, cold, damp and sleep deprived, they made their way along the border, keeping their eyes out for signs of training and troop movements. Kakashi was exhausted and irritable, a condition only aggravated by the fact that he had to keep Hakaru and Arata effectively apart to prevent them from butting heads like a couple of Nara stags during mating season. He was almost thankful for the distraction provided by the appearance of an unfamiliar chakra signature in the forest.

With a flick of his hand he halted his team and they crouched in the trees, weapons at the ready as it approached.

The first thing Kakashi heard was not an unwary footfall, but the faint crackle of a badly-tuned radio receiver. Moments later, a young man pushed through the trees, walking on ninja-silent feet, fiddling with a receiver at his belt and grumbling about faulty equipment. The radio growled static in his ear and he snapped out "shut up already – I told you the clip was a piece of shit – I dropped the fucking thing."

When he crouched on the ground to fiddle with the half-broken radio Kakashi got a clear look at the Otogakure headband fastened around his thigh. From Kakashi's point of view he seemed a harmless border guard, as bored and tired as the ninja who were forced to stand on the walls of Konoha for hours at a time with nothing to really watch for or do; he would have been happy to let the kid go on his way, maybe plant a microphone on the back of his vest to see if he could overhear anything useful in the radio transmissions – but Arata had other ideas. He dropped down from his high perch onto a branch just above the enemy ninja's head.

There was a smile on his face that made Kakashi's skin crawl.

"What is he _doing_?" Karin hissed before Kakashi silenced her with a wave, motioning desperately for Arata to fall back before he was discovered. When the Sound-ninja stood up, the top of his head was going to be almost level with Arata's foot, and the fool would be discovered for sure. Arata, however, didn't seem to be paying attention – although he glanced in Kakashi's direction, he didn't obey the command, instead drawing a kunai into his palm and holding it at the ready.

Short of physically throwing himself at Arata, and thereby revealing their presence, there was nothing Kakashi could do to stop him. The branch he was on didn't look like it would hold two people; it was barely holding Arata as it was.

Kakashi ground his teeth together as the Sound-ninja rose to his feet, praying that he wouldn't see Arata hovering just above him – but it was a moot point anyway. The minute the man stood up, Arata drove the kunai into the soft spot at the base of his skull, and he dropped like a ton of bricks.

"What are you _doing_?!" Hakaru bellowed. Arata ignored him utterly and jumped from the branch, rummaging through the pockets in the dead man's vest.

Barely repressing his own fury, Kakashi dropped down next to the dead body, "Our orders were to not engage the enemy unless necessary…" he ground out between clenched teeth, "You've blown our cover."

"So what?" Arata snorted, pulling a handful of – probably – useless scrolls out of dead man's vest and cramming them into his own pockets, "This is my idea of really effective recon."

The dead man's radio spat static in a loud scream, filled with half-garbled words.

"We have to get out of here," Kakashi grabbed Arata roughly by the arm, aware that the fallen man's team-mates were likely already on their way, "Everyone fall back – this mission is over."

Arata wrestled out of his grip and took off ahead of the others, only increasing Kakashi's fury.

It would be a miracle, Kakashi decided, if he didn't simply kill the bastard.

***

Kakashi was pissed. Pissed at Arata for being a reckless jackass, pissed at his poor luck that had cursed him with such an infuriating mission, pissed at the fact that said mission was going necessitate increased contact with the aforementioned jackass on top of lying to Iruka, and perhaps most of all pissed off at Tsunade for saddling him with the mission in the first place.

His frustrated anger made it terribly easy to be irate and abrupt with Tsunade as she dressed-down the team for effectively failing their mission. The fact that his anger worked to make it seem to Arata as if Kakashi held little to no respect for the Hokage was an added bonus to being able to vent some of his frustration.

Eventually, Tsunade dismissed the rest of the team, leaving herself and Kakashi alone, and with several quick hand signs, cast a sound barrier on the office.

"So…" she prompted, "What do you think?"

"He's a loose cannon," Kakashi began, "and he definitely shouldn't be allowed in the field – he has the teamwork skills of a three year old."

"All of which I've heard before," Tsunade feigned a yawn, "what else?"

"He hates you."

Tsunade cocked an eyebrow, folding her hands under her chin and leaning forward, "Do tell."

"I couldn't gather much, just that you – and I quote – 'haven't done shit all about this Otogakure bullshit except have decent ninja sitting around in the dark playing with themselves.'"

Tsunade actually laughed at that, heartily, leaning back in her chair and wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, "So what you're telling me Hatake, is that he's all balls and no brains."

"Precisely. Personally I think you have the wrong man on this one – having this guy as a recruiter would be a serious miscalculation on the part of our enemies. A spy he may be, but he's as charismatic as a mouldy dishcloth."

"Maybe he's just the first rung on a long ladder," Tsunade suggested, "I want you to stay on this one. You're not getting out of it that easily."

Kakashi hid his regret well. She couldn't blame him for trying, really.

"As you wish."

He had expected to be free to go home after his 'failed mission'; but to his surprise, Arata was waiting for him on the street outside Tsunade's office.

"So," Arata sneered, "did she bust your balls, or what?"

Kakashi put on his best air of indifference. Luckily he had a lot of practice, "Tried to. I managed to convince her that one less sound-nin is a good thing."

"I hear that," Arata nodded brusquely, "That's what she and those old fools on the council don't get – we should be swarming Sound's borders, taking out their fighters _before_ they have a chance to get strong, not pissing around with all this espionage bullshit."

Kakashi managed to nod, despite the fact that it was obvious the man had no idea what he was talking about.

All balls and no brains indeed.

"You wanna go for a drink?"

The invitation was entirely unexpected. It took Kakashi a moment to even consider the proper response. He wanted to go home to Iruka, but wasn't actually expected for another twenty-four hours, so he probably wouldn't be missed.

His chest tightened suddenly when he realized that he was already thinking like a guilty man.

"Sure," he managed finally, "why the hell not?"

***

They sat at a small table in the back of a dingy, smoke-filled bar, sipping sake from glasses that were so much less than clean Kakashi was sure he would have to get a tetanus shot before he went home.

Kakashi didn't do much talking. He didn't have to. Arata drank sake by the bottleful and grumbled about everything under the sun. But his favourite topics seemed to be the Konoha-Oto conflict and the Hokage.

"That's the problem with women," he was saying – rather loudly, though given that the patronage of the bar was almost exclusively male, and almost exclusively minding its own business, Kakashi doubted anyone would care, "they jump at shadows all the damn time, and never realize that the biggest danger is right under their nose. Sandaime was the same way – like the thing with that Uchiha kid – bet he never woulda seen that coming."

"But you did."

Arata fixed him with a withering glare, "Who said that?"

Kakashi shrugged, doing his best to look nonchalant, "Just seemed to me like that was where you were headed."

Arata took a deep swill of his sake, "You know – maybe this country needs a good war. Have you seen the kids coming out of the academy these days? Pathetic."

Kakashi made a noncommittal noise, which Arata seemed to take as agreement.

"Throw them out onto the battlefield," he continued, "then they'll become _real_ ninja – learn how to fight – how to kill. Well, you must remember what it was like. But with a woman running the show…we'll be grovelling on our knees in front of that sick fuck Orochimaru before you know it."

Kakashi made that noise again. Arata smiled his sickening smile in response.

"You know, it's men like you and me who are going to be the ones to save this village Hatake – men of action."

"There aren't many of those left these days," Kakashi intoned with what he hoped was nostalgia and not sarcasm.

"More than you'd think."

Kakashi blinked, watching Arata very carefully, but he was staring into his sake glass, scowling. Kakashi made a show of looking at the clock on the wall over the bar, and stood up.

"I have to be going."

"Sure," Arata saluted him with his glass, "You're an alright guy Hatake. We'll have to do this again – I'm here every night."

Kakashi resisted the urge to grimace as he said, "I'll keep that in mind."

Which was perhaps the only really truthful thing that he had said all day.

***

Kakashi had never been so happy to be home in his life, but still he felt as if some mysterious force was going to repel him at the door, just out of general principle.

"I'm home!" he announced as he stepped through the door, trying to sound cheerful. In the back of the house, he heard the shower shut off. He toed off his sandals and headed for the bathroom, only to be greeted by a dripping Iruka wrapped in a towel.

"You're home ear – leee!" Iruka yelped in surprise as Kakashi all but tackled him, burying his masked face in Iruka's damp shoulder, "Does this mean the mission didn't go well?"

Kakashi inhaled the rich smell of moisture and shampoo clinging to Iruka's skin, "Not well at all."

Iruka tensed a little with alarm, "No one was hurt, were they?"

"No one on our side."

Iruka relaxed, taking Kakashi's face from his shoulder, "Well that's good." He pulled down Kakashi's mask and planted a chaste kiss on his lips, pulling back with an amused frown, "You've been drinking."

"The team went out to unwind," A little voice in the back of Kakashi's head, one that he couldn't say he had ever heard before, began chanting _liar liar liar_ – but he tried to block it out.

"Ah," Iruka accepted his words without hesitation, "well if you're hungry, there's leftovers in the fridge. I have to finish my shower."

Kakashi kissed his lover's temple and eased him backwards into the bathroom, "What if it's not food that I'm hungry for?"

"Well," Iruka laughed, "I think I can help you with that too."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arata approaches Kakashi with a proposal.

Over the next two weeks, Iruka was working hard on preparing for mid-term exams, which made it painfully easy for Kakashi to sneak out – which was what it felt like, even though he wasn't strictly _sneaking_, and Iruka was glad to be free of distractions – in the evenings and put in an appearance at the bar that Arata seemed to favour.

On Kakashi's first few visits, he sat at the bar, as if he was perfectly at home, and waited for Arata to approach him. He always did, despite that he didn't seem to be a particularly sociable person. Then again, that particular bar didn't seem a haven of social interaction. Kakashi recognized some of the faces there, though only fleetingly. They were a certain breed of ninja, those who had fallen past their prime, not because of age, but because something in their souls or minds or both had broken somewhere along the way. They were hollow shells of men and women, surviving on low-rank missions and a disturbingly righteous sense of betrayal – betrayal by the gods, by their comrades, by their village – and their bitterness clouded the air like a poison fog. Sorrow and suffering had robbed them of their skills as shinobi.

The precipice of misery was one that Kakashi himself knew frighteningly well, one he had almost fallen over in the months after his sensei's death. As such it was relatively easy to put on airs of being one of them. He scowled into his drink and grunted monosyllabic responses when spoken to.

Fortunately, Arata didn't need any encouragement to be willing to talk. He seemed overjoyed to be able to have someone to talk to – or more properly talk _at_, since Kakashi hardly ever seemed to get a word in edgewise. The man was an endless fountain of complaints – many of which bordered on treason, and Kakashi was forced to listen to them all, fighting back his desire to grab the man by the throat and shout "Shut the fuck up already!" right in his face.

It wasn't until almost two weeks to the day that they met that Arata began to say something worth listening to.

"You know Hatake…" he was more than a little drunk by this point, his words slightly slurred, "You and I aren't the only ones who think this village is going to hell in a hand-basket."

"Mmm…" Kakashi offered, which was his standard response to everything that Arata said, even as his ears perked.

"There are lots of others…" Arata's eyes were glazed, and almost fanatically bright, "We're gonna fix this village…"

Kakashi waited for him to say more, but he had lapsed into drunken silence. Kakashi sipped his drink, and weighed his options. They had emptied two bottles of sake a piece already, and while Kakashi could have gone on all night – thanks to pills he had taken that neutralized the effects of the alcohol – but Arata had one, maybe one and a half bottles left at most before he was flat on his ass and completely useless as an information source.

"And how, exactly, are you going to do that?" Kakashi tried his best to sound casually interested.

Arata's eyes narrowed into tiny, dark slits, "Wouldn't you _love_ to know."

Kakashi backed off instinctually, slouching back in his chair, scratching his head and yawning.

"You think we can't do it?" Arata bristled.

"Saa…" Kakashi yawned again, "I didn't say that."

Without another word, Arata stood and walked away – or rather, shambled – but regardless of his drunken state, he certainly didn't look happy.

Kakashi stayed behind a few minutes longer, frowning to himself, and then seized on the oppourtunity to _finally_ go back home.

It was well after midnight by the time he made his way back to the house. He slipped in quietly, not knowing if Iruka would be in bed or not, and found his lover in the living room, asleep amongst the scattered papers that constituted the rough draft of the written portion of the mid-term exam.

Kakashi's heart ached at the sight of Iruka passed out with his head lying on the table, a pen still in his hand. His brow was still knit slightly with the ghost of frustration, and it was easy to tell that he could have used a break long before it came to the point of passing out.

Kakashi crouched carefully at the younger man's side, brushing stray tendrils of hair off his sleeping face, trying to smooth the furrowed brow with his fingertips.

"Hey pretty baby…" he cooed gently as Iruka's eyes fluttered open.

"You're late…" Iruka mumbled sleepily, moving towards the caress of Kakashi's fngers.

"I know…" Kakashi sighed, genuinely remorseful, "I'm sorry."

There was something like suspicion, or maybe just sorrow in Iruka's eyes before they drifted closed again.

***

The next night when Kakashi got ready to leave for the bar, Iruka stopped him at the door.

"I was thinking of taking a break from dreaming up ways to torment the mini-ninjas tonight," he purred, tangling himself around Kakashi, "want to join me?"

There was nothing, absolutely nothing in the whole world that Kakashi wanted to do more; but he found himself saying, "Well you see – I was supposed to be meeting Gai for one of his challenges hours ago – and you know what will happen if I don't show up at some point…"

And there was that voice in his head again, chanting _liar liar liar_ with a sort of manic glee, as if it actually enjoyed his suffering.

"Oh…" the look of disappointment on Iruka's face as he released his hold on Kakashi was heart-wrenching, "Well – we wouldn't want that."

Kakashi couldn't stand that look – the barely concealed sorrow in Iruka's wide brown eyes, the way the corners of his soft lips turned down, and the tiny dent in his cheek from where he worried the tender flesh inside between his teeth. It made Kakashi ache inside. He wanted to spend his night curled on the couch with Iruka, not on a hard bench in a smoky bar listening to Moreo Arata's delusions of grandeur. But the mission won out, of course, and he found himself saying "I'm sure it won't take that long," even though he knew that was probably a lie too, kissing Iruka penetantly on the temple, and then making his escape before he could see the hurt in Iruka's eyes.

***

When Kakashi got to the bar, he was miserable enough to want to drink. He didn't think he could listen to Arata whine for hours on end without being at least a little tipsy, if not completely sloshed.

Arata wasn't at the usual table – which left Kakashi floundering for a moment, until someone in a dark corner waved at him. He moved cautiously towards the beckoning hand, wary of the deep shadows, until he could clearly see Arata at a table with two other men, both wearing hooded jackets that hid their faces. Kakashi's senses went on high alert – it wasn't their concealed faces that concerned him, but the fact that they both had their hands under the table.

He stopped a good distance from the trio and gave them what he hoped was his most disarming grin-and-wave combo.

"Yo Arata…what's going on?"

The hooded men whispered to one another in a way that screamed "conspiracy" at a thousand paces. It was almost hilariously amateur – like a bunch of little boys with a secret handshake, or Akatsuki and their matching uniforms.

"Sit down Hatake," Arata motioned to the empty chair, smiling that oily smile of his, "we're having a party."

Kakashi affected a chuckle, scratching his head – in the process shifting the set of his headband just enough that his Sharingan could peek out from underneath. Nothing in the hooded men's movements betrayed any readiness to attack, but the hairs on the back of Kakashi's neck prickle in an alarming fashion.

"Doesn't look like my kind of party – there isn't even any music."

"Not very friendly, is he?" Once of the hooded men muttered. Kakashi didn't recognize the voice; but it was heavily muffled as well, as if he had something wrapped around his face.

"You sure he's one of us?" the other said.

"I thought so," Arata's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Kakashi pulled the chair out from the table over to where he stood and dropped into it with his arms folded over his chest.

Arata laughed, shaking his head, "Bloody Jonin…paranoid much?"

"That's why I'm still alive," Kakashi responded dryly.

The hooded men exchanged looks, and finally put their hands up on the tabletop.

Kakashi scooted his chair in, "So, what's this all about?"

"Proof," Arata answered, "You obviously wanted proof that I'm not just some lone nut ranting into a sake glass."

"And this is it?"

"Don't get smart," the hooded man with the muffled voice snarled.

"I can be as smart as I want," Kakashi replied snidely, "That's the best part of being a genius."

The hooded duo traded whispers again. They couldn't have been more obvious had they been wearing signs that read "bad men planning bad things" around their necks. Not that anyone else in the bar seemed to notice. They all had their own problems to deal with, and that was enough.

"Please," Arata snorted finally, "We're not the three stooges. Before you see any more we have to be certain that you're really on our side. It's just red tape, you understand."

Kakashi nodded in the most understanding fashion while projecting his best aura of innocence.

"We need a gesture of solidarity," Arata finished.

"And what – exactly – might this gesture entail?"

"You're a Jonin, right?" One of the hooded men leaned across the table. The grimy light illuminated the white bandages that covered face beneath the hood, "Former ANBU?"

Kakashi nodded, not bothering to explain what few uninitiated ninja understood – that once ANBU meant always ANBU.

"So then you have unrestricted access to the hall of records?"

"Not entirely," Kakashi shook his head, "only the Hokage has _completely_ unrestricted access."

The hooded man sat back and growled something in Arata's ear.

"Oh shut up," Arata snapped at him, "we aren't going to get a better chance than this."

Neither of the hooded men looked happy. They sat rigidly back in their chairs, projecting what could only be described as righteous indignation.

"Listen," Arata said firmly, fixing Kakashi with what the Jonin assumed as a no-nonsense stare, "we need information."

"On what?"

"The four ANBU assigned as the Hokage's personal bodyguards. We want to know who they really are."

Kakashi actually managed not to blink. It wasn't the sort of request that he had expected – actually, he hadn't known what to expect, but he hadn't thought the request would be so serious.

"You're not actually thinking of taking on the ANBU are you? I may be a Jonin, but I don't do suicide missions."

"What we want to do with the files isn't any of your business – yet," One of the hooded men growled.

"I could be executed just for trying to get my hands on those files," Kakashi leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table, projecting as much casual indifference as was humanly possible, "so what's in it for me?"

One of the hooded men reached under the table again and Kakashi tensed momentarily until he drew a manila envelope out onto the tabletop.

"Go ahead," Arata nudged the envelope towards him with one finger, "Open it."

Kakashi lifted the envelope cautiously with a thumb and forefinger, gave it a shake, and then tore it open. A single, glossy 8x10 fell out onto the tabletop.

Anyone who knew Kakashi – really knew him – would have seen shock written all over his face simply in the way that his single eye widened less than a fraction of an inch.

"You recognize that face, don't you? So tell me – what is he to you?"

Heart, body, mind, soul.

Iruka.

Kakashi's first instinct was to throw himself over the table, take Arata by the throat and threaten him within an inch of his life if he ever went near Iruka again. Just living in the same village was too near. Living in the next country over was too near. For a moment it seemed that only the next world would be far enough for Kakashi's peace of mind.

Luckily for Arata's continued good health, Kakashi's higher brain function won out; but his outrage still came clearly through when he said, "Are you blackmailing me?"

"Blackmail is such an ugly word," Arata's smile left an oily film on Kakashi's soul, "after all, we're all on the same side here, aren't we? I just want you to know that – well, if you're not with us, ultimately, you're against us."

Kakashi tossed the picture across the table. It struck Arata in the chest and he actually flinched, "I'm not someone you can push around Arata – believe me, I'm not afraid of you. And if you think that a thing like _that_," he gestured roughly to the photo where it had fallen on the table, "is going to move me, you're sorely mistaken. He's nothing to me – understand that – nothing but a convenient way to satisfy an itch."

It killed Kakashi inside to say a thing like that – made the voice inside his head scream _liar_ so loudly that he could barely hear his own thoughts and made his heart turn into a cold, dead lump behind his ribs. But they were just words – words that could ultimately protect Iruka – so he said them even if they made him feel like shit.

"I don't appreciate being treated like some snot-nosed Genin," Kakashi continued, "And frankly, I could just turn you in – because, and let's be honest here, we all know what you're doing here. Sure, you could say that I was going along with the whole thing, but who are they going to believe, in the end?"

There was silence for a moment, a terrible, heavy, furious silence; and while Kakashi was still considering doing something painful but no doubt necessary to Arata, the man actually looked straight into his eye and laughed.

"Man Hatake, you're intense!" He was shaking all over with mirth, head thrown back in delight, "Fucking intense! That was fantastic!" He grabbed the photograph up off the tabletop and ripped it in half in one, smooth motion, dropping the pieces to the tabletop, "Way to pass with flying colors man."

Kakashi's brow furrowed in furious irritation. All that for a damn test?

"See, it's just that we can't have people around who are easily led, you know," Arata was grinning like a lunatic, and Kakashi wanted to use his fist to wipe the expression off his face, "or people that have unnecessary attachments right? You understand."

"Sure," Kakashi stood abruptly, "I understand alright."

"Why don't you stick around?"

"I don't think I like the atmosphere in here tonight."

"Will you get the files?"

Kakashi nodded sharply, turning away, "Sure – whatever."

***

Iruka was waiting for him when he walked into the bedroom, sitting with his back against the headboard watching the door. He didn't look happy by any stretch of the imagination; the anger on his face alone halted Kakashi in the middle of the floor, but it was more than anger. A lot more.

"Gai was here looking for you."

Kakashi's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, but he managed not to say something idiotic like 'shit'. What he came out with instead was: "Iruka I…"

"You don't have to lie to me you know."

In a perfect world, in a world where it was just him and Iruka and no need for shinobi or covert missions, "I know that."

"Then why do it?"

"Iruka…" Kakashi managed to take a single step forward, his knees nearly at the edge of the bed, "I just…I…" and then the lie came, almost unbidden, "I just needed to be by myself."

He blocked out the voice and its frantic hum of _liar liar liar liar_.

"And you couldn't tell me that?"

"I…" The pressure of Iruka's eyes was making his chest ache, but somehow Kakashi managed not to look away, "I just didn't want to hurt you."

"You didn't think that disappearing would hurt me?"

Kakashi didn't have an answer for that one, really, so he just bit his lip and tried to keep breathing.

"You've been disappearing every night for weeks now Kakashi – I want you to tell me what's going on."

The desire to throw himself at Iruka's feet and confess everything was almost overwhelming, but Kakashi was better trained than that, "It's my problem Iruka."

Iruka looked down at his hands, which clenched and unclenched atop the blanket, as if he couldn't quite decide whether to be angry or hurt, "You're not going to tell me."

"No."

"There's nothing I can do – nothing I can do to make it better for you?"

Kakashi's heart broke at that, because now Iruka thought _he_ was hurting – and in a way he was, but he didn't deserve Iruka's pity for it.

"Don't…" Kakashi knelt carefully on the bed, wary of the way the mattress shifted underneath him, and crawled towards Iruka, "Don't worry about me, alright?"

"I can't help it…" Iruka's voice was almost too soft to hear. Kakashi laid his head very carefully on his lover's shoulder, kissing his neck gently.

"I know. It'll all be fine, I promise pretty baby. Just give it time…please."

A soft tremor ran through Iruka's body, and Kakashi could almost hear the unasked question 'how much time?' as Iruka's hands began slowly but determinedly removing his clothes.

"Iruka…what are you…"

"It's all I can do, right?" Iruka mumbled thickly as he cast Kakashi's shirt aside and traced a hot tongue along his collar bone, "If I can't help your heart, then your body at least – your body is mine."

"Hey…" Kakashi lifted the younger man's chin forcibly until their eyes met, "My heart _is_ yours pretty baby, it always will be."

"Always…" Iruka twisted his head out of Kakashi's grip and focused on the clothes once again with almost obsessive intensity, "Sure…"

Kakashi couldn't think of any more protests, couldn't think of anything that he could really say that would make Iruka believe him – except for the absolute truth, and that was a luxury that he didn't have.

Iruka stripped him bare, and Kakashi didn't resist. It was only when the Chunin bowed his head between his thighs that Kakashi wanted to say something like 'don't', not because he didn't want Iruka, but because it didn't seem fair that Iruka should love him so much. He shuddered, gasped, as Iruka licked him root to tip in one long swipe before taking him in, sucking gently but with possessive insistence, and more than a little desperate longing. Kakashi tried to hold back for as long as he could, gripping Iruka's shoulders and biting the inside of his lip so hard that the flesh went raw, because somehow it seemed that if he could just make it _last_ he could be with Iruka in that place – just the two of them, his perfect world – forever with no more need to lie, because his body could speak the truth of love almost enough, even if his lips couldn't.

When Kakashi climaxed, his face was wet, hot droplets of salt water dripping onto his chest and onto the top of Iruka's head, because all he could think about was how he had said that Iruka was nothing to him, _nothing but a convenient way to satisfy an itch_; when really he was so much more than that – probably much more than he would ever be able to know or appreciate, and certainly more than Kakashi would ever be able to properly explain.

"Oh Kakashi – Kakashi…" Iruka kissed his cheek, lapping the tears from his chin, stroking fingers through his hair where it was spread out on the pillow, "What's wrong? Please tell me, please."

But there was nothing he could say.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evidence is collected

The next morning, Kakashi lingered impatiently outside the Hokage's office waiting to make his report. He hadn't slept at all that he could remember, but had laid awake watching Iruka sleep and feeling generally like the worst person in the world.

He was leaning against the wall, with Icha Icha hiding his face – although he hadn't flipped the page in at least fifteen minutes – when Asuma strode boldly up the hallway as if he owned it – which was, generally speaking, the same kind of entrance Asuma made everywhere he went – and leaned against the wall next to Kakashi, offering him a smoke.

"You look like hell."

Kakashi waved off the offered cigarette, grunting in response.

"I thought you were on vacation."

Kakashi grunted again.

"Fine," Asuma feigned hurt, though not well, "You're in an awfully bad mood – you in the doghouse or something?"

Kakashi had known Asuma a long time, considered him a friend, and possibly the most sane of his colleagues – just above Raidou, who lost a few points on the sanity meter for being willing to sleep with Genma on a regular basis.

But everyone has their quirks.

When Kakashi spoke, his voice was so low that Asuma had to tilt his head closer to hear it properly.

"Have you ever lied to Kurenai?"

"Oh sure," Asuma growled conspiratorially, blowing smoke out his nostrils like a pensive dragon, "I mean – I don't like to do it, but sometimes…you know how it is."

"I do," Kakashi nodded solemnly.

Asuma knocked the cherry off the end of his cigarette and tucked the remains into his pocket. Tsunade tended to frown upon his smoking in her office. "It's hard the first couple of times, but you get over it – mostly. Anyway, a little guilt is probably a good thing, proves you're still human enough to feel emotions. The day you don't feel any guilt, that's when you should really start worrying."

Kakashi was still deciding what to say in response to that, when the door to the Hokage's office came open and Shizune's head popped out. She took a quick look around, spotted Kakashi, and waved him forward.

"Kakashi-san, Tsunade-sama will see you now."

Kakashi pushed off the wall, gave Asuma a short wave, and slouched into the office with an air of long-suffering patience, amidst the grumbles of the other ninja who had been waiting there a lot longer than he had. Shizune shut the door behind him, leaving him alone in the room with Tsunade, who sat at her desk behind the largest cup of coffee that Kakashi had ever seen. A full pot of coffee sat warming on a hot plate on the corner of her desk in front of a teetering stack of long-neglected paperwork.

"Burning the midnight oil?" Kakashi asked.

"You look like you could do with a good cup of coffee yourself Hatake," she replied dryly, stifling a yawn, "So, what's the word?"

Kakashi had rehearsed in his head exactly how to go about telling Tsunade what he wanted, but in the end he decided that being blunt was the best idea- because Tsunade would respond to that unfailingly.

"I need the personnel files of the ANBU members serving as your personal bodyguards."

Tsunade stared at him for a long moment, her coffee cup hovering in mid air between her desk and her slightly open mouth, before saying, "Excuse me – what?"

Kakashi repeated himself. Then he explained why.

Tsunade stared at him, incredulous, "You want me to give them the files – the _genuine_ files?"

"There's no guarantee that this isn't some elaborate test," Kakashi sighed, "for all I know, they could already _have_ the files, and they just want to see if I'm on the level."

"Which you're not."

"Well, they're not supposed to know that, are they?"

Tsunade scowled, setting her coffee down untouched, "And they are planning to do what exactly with this information?"

"I don't know – gathering the information is the precursor to being allowed to know."

Tsunade's scowl deepened, "I don't like it."

Kakashi gave a long-suffering sigh, plunging his hands deep into his pockets, "Neither do I, to be honest. But at least from what I've seen they don't have a hope in hell of actually going against the ANBU, at least not in a full-frontal assault."

"But they could have an ace in the hole that you don't know about yet."

"So could anyone in the village," Kakashi pointed out, "we're ninja – that's part of our job description."

Tsunade grumbled something – probably 'smart-ass' – under her breath, "Alright, just wait here and I'll get you the files. It's only two weeks until the next rotation anyway – I suppose I can be a little more vigilant until then."

"Two weeks doesn't give me much time to complete my mission," Kakashi interjected.

Tsunade stood rather gracelessly, brushing the wrinkles out of her clothes with sweeps of her hands, "Once you give them the files, it shouldn't be a problem, should it?"

"Well – what if it is?"

"You'll just have to hope that it's not."

***

Arata didn't show up at the bar that night. Kakashi sat around for close to two hours feeling vaguely disgruntled by the fact that he had to sit up so straight to avoid crumpling the files concealed inside his vest when it was really a "slouching over sullenly" sort of night since Iruka was working a late shift at the mission desk.

Finally, he gave up his seat at the bar and dragged his feet towards home, irritable and not nearly as drunk as he wished he could be.

About two blocks from the bar, he realized he was being followed.

It wasn't a particularly stealthy pursuit. His pursuer was on a rooftop just behind his left shoulder, not really trying to stay undetected, but not being obvious about what he was doing either.

The implication was that he actually intended himself to be seen.

Kakashi ducked off the main street into a small alleyway and stood with his back leaning against the wall, book in front of his face as if he had just stopped to read a particularly interesting part without the distraction of walking. A few seconds later, a man in a hood with a bandage-wrapped face dropped down in front of him.

"What do you want?" Kakashi managed to sound casual yet demanding all at once, as if people stalked him and dropped down off rooftops in front of him all the time. His hand, of course, stayed close to his kunai holster.

"Arata sent me," the man replied flatly, "to give you this."

He passed Kakashi a single, folded piece of paper, and then disappeared.

Kakashi scowled at the paper for a moment before unfolding it. It read, in Arata's scrawling handwriting:

_Can't meet at the bar anymore. Too many eyes. Come to my place tomorrow night._

It contained an address, but not a name.

Kakashi scowled, wondering what exactly Arata meant by "too many eyes". Was he suddenly concerned about people overhearing their business, or did he suspect something?

Kakashi crumpled up the note and stuck it in his pocket. He would just have to be extra careful at the meeting, that was all, considering they would no longer be meeting in a public place. It was standard operating procedure anyway; for him, it didn't really change anything.

***

Iruka did not announce himself as usual when he came home that night because he honestly hadn't expected Kakashi to be there. Given the Jonin's sudden predilection for staying out until well after midnight, it was a surprise to come home and find Kakashi's sandals by the door, his vest hung over the back of a kitchen chair. It was only eleven-thirty, but the house was dark and silent, so Iruka assumed that, for whatever reason, Kakashi was already in bed; and he was actually a little bit glad. All those late nights had obviously worn Kakashi down – and although he seemed to be on a rather indefinite 'vacation', Iruka was concerned about what might happen if he was suddenly called back into the field.

Well, _concerned_ probably wasn't the right word. Iruka hadn't found a word quite strong enough. Terrified was a close candidate though. He intrinsically understood that this kind of thing happened to ninja sometimes – they saw something or did something that was just the last straw for an already fragile conscience – and considering that Kakashi had been killing people since the age of five, he was a prime candidate for that kind of breakdown. Iruka had been seriously wondering if Kakashi's 'vacation' was actually something else entirely – like forced stress leave.

But surely _someone_ would tell him if something like that had happened, wouldn't they?

Stifling a yawn, Iruka put his bag down and picked up Kakashi's vest, intending to hang it by the door where it belonged, but as he placed it on the hook, a crumpled piece of paper fell out of one of the pockets onto the floor. Iruka picked it up, not thinking much of it, but un-crumpled it out of habit, just to make sure that it wasn't anything particularly important before he tossed it in the trash.

He stared at the words on the paper, not really comprehending them at first; read it once, twice, three times, with a lump steadily growing in his throat and a pressure building in his chest as if his heart was going to explode.

This couldn't be right. It could be true. At the very least, it couldn't be what he thought it was.

Iruka took a very long, deep breath and tried to keep his heartbeat steady, tried to make sense of what he was reading.

In the end, two facts came to the forefront of his mind.

Kakashi had been meeting someone at the bar.

That _someone_ now wanted to meet him in private – away from prying eyes.

Iruka crumbled up the note and crammed it back in Kakashi's vest pocket. It had to be a misunderstanding. Maybe the note hadn't even been met for Kakashi in the first place, maybe it was just a piece of garbage he had picked up somewhere.

Kakashi would never do a thing like what the wicked part of Iruka's mind was implying.

Iruka shed his work clothes and slipped into the bedroom in only his pants, throwing the dirty clothes into the hamper just inside the bedroom door. Kakashi was in bed, asleep in the same pose he always seemed to assume when Iruka was not sharing the bed with him – curled up on his side with his knees close to his chest, one hand tucked under the pillow and the other close to his face so that the knuckle of his thumb rested just against his barely parted lips.

Iruka had always meant to ask Kakashi if he had sucked his thumb as a child. That was certainly what his preferred sleeping position seemed to suggest.

When they shared the bed, Kakashi would always wrap his lanky, powerful arms and legs around Iruka, as if to hold him as close as humanly possible.

Iruka couldn't imagine anyone else sharing that space. That was his place, and a sudden, furious indignation rose at the thought that it could ever belong to anyone else.

He sat carefully on the edge of the bed and slipped underneath the covers, with his back to Kakashi's. Kakashi stirred, rolling over and pressing tight against him, hand settling over Iruka's stomach and rubbing gently. Warm lips brushed against the back of Iruka's neck, mumbling something Iruka couldn't quite make out, and then the Jonin lapsed into sleep again.

Iruka lay awake for a long time. He could smell the wild earth and warm fur scent that clung to Kakashi's skin, feel the familiar rhythm of Kakashi's chest rising and falling against his back – which usually worked to lull him quickly to sleep; but the words of the note ran over and over in his head like a terrible taunt, as he tried to convince himself – with less and less success – that it couldn't possibly be true.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi makes the wrong choice, and Anko makes the wrong assumption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I used what I'm pretty sure is the Japanese form of the attack translated as "Striking Shadow Snake" I'm not positive it's correct though, and am happy to be corrected on this point

Iruka stood on Anko's doorstep, tapping his foot on the concrete stair and feeling like an idiot as he slowly ran down his hour-long lunch break.  
He had decided early that morning – when a student nearly nailed him between the eyes with a practice shuriken because he was so distracted – that he needed a second opinion on what he had found. Granted, Anko wasn't the best choice for the job, but Genma and Raidou were both on missions, Gai was _way_ out of the question, Kotetsu and Izumo would just laugh at him, and he wasn't really close enough with anyone else to trust them with something so personal. He and Anko were about as close as two people could be who hadn't actually gone that next step and slept together. The only real reason that they hadn't gone that far wasn't because Iruka preferred men – he would have been willing enough to give it a _try_, at least when he had been a teenager – but largely because Anko was, by her own admission, a 'dumb fuck'. She didn't sleep with people she respected or cared about.

Orochimaru had effectively destroyed that part of her life.

Still, if nothing else, Iruka trusted her to give him an honest opinion – even if it might be almost brutally truthful – that was a risk he was willing to take for a chance at a little peace of mind.

He raised his hand and knocked very matter-of-factly.

For a moment there was absolutely no response. He waited, biting on the inside of his cheek and wondering what he would do if Anko wasn't home. He was about to knock again when he heard a sound from inside – a clumsy footfall, something being knocked over, and a half-stifled curse. The doorknob rattled sharply, and the door came open with a sound as if it might fall off its hinges.

Anko looked like she had just crawled out bed. She had never had much of a sense of modesty, and wore an oversized T-shirt that hung nearly to her knees and was perilously close to being see-through. She stared at him with sleep-clouded eyes, ran one hand through her tussled hair, and yawned widely.

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" She asked finally

"Lunch break," Iruka said, by way of explanation, "I need to talk to you. Unless you have – a guest?"

Anko looked back over her shoulder, as if she wasn't quite sure, and then stepped aside to allow him in.

Now Iruka was not a particularly neat person by nature. Any space he occupied was perhaps not outright messy, but leaned slightly towards cluttered. Comfortably lived in was a nice way to think of it. Kakashi was closer to neat and tended to pick up behind himself without leaving things to pile up first. Anko, on the other hand, was as close to a complete slob as Iruka had ever seen. The interior of her perpetually closed-in apartment smelled ripe and feverish. Every available surface was crowded with discarded clothing, empty bottles, empty takeout containers, weapons and scrolls. If the apartment had a carpet, Iruka couldn't see it, but he refrained from commenting on the sorry state of things.

It wouldn't really do any good. Anko lived the way she wanted to, and frankly, that was her right.

"Got home from a mission late last night," Anko swaggered into the kitchen, sticking her head inside the fridge and producing a carton of orange juice, which she dark from without a glass, "You'll have to fill me in on all the juicy bits of gossip I missed."

"Uh…sure," Iruka tried to clear a spot on a kitchen chair without touching too much of the debris that was placed on it, "listen Anko, I need your opinion on something."

"Sure 'ruka," Anko leaned her elbows on the counter and watched him with an air of intense interest that was vaguely unnerving.

Iruka took a deep breath, and then poured his fears out, speaking so fast that he wasn't even positive that Anko was going to be able to understand what he was saying, but he just had to get it all _out_. Once he was done – panting a little as if he had just run a good mile – Anko turned on her heel and opened the fridge.

"You need a drink."

"No Anko," Iruka said quickly, "I have to go back to class soon."

"Well then I need a drink – but someone needs to be drinking in here pretty quickly." She pulled a beer out of the fridge – the good stuff, imported from wave country. Anko might wear her clothes until they dissolved to rags around her, but she never skimped on good booze – and popped the top off with a kunai that was lying on the countertop. She took two good swills and then looked at Iruka with dark seriousness painted all over her face.

"You know what this sounds like – right?"

"Don't tell me that!" Iruka buried his face in his hands and moaned piteously, "I don't want to hear that!"

"But you didn't come here so I could tell you what you wanted to hear."

"You don't have any other _reasonable_ explanation?" Iruka demanded, "I mean – you didn't see him the other night – he came home absolutely distraught about something. Distraught Anko – I don't think I've ever seen him so upset."

"Maybe he's afraid you're going to cut his balls off when you find out. I would."

Iruka glared at her irritably for a moment, "Maybe someone's threatening him with something…"

Anko snorted loudly, "Threatening Kakashi? I don't know many people who would have the balls to do that. Kakashi would probably just kill them and hide the body somewhere – Jonin are good at that."

"If any one hurts him…if anyone tries…" Iruka's hand tightened unconsciously on the back of the chair, so powerfully that the wood began to creak, "I – I'll…"

"Relax Iruka…" Anko abandoned her beer and walked over to him, running her hand soothingly down his arm until his fingers loosened, "I've seen what you can do to protect the people you care about."

She had, true enough. First hand. Iruka took a deep breath and released it in a slow rush.

"I have to know Anko – I have to know what's going on, even if it's something…something painful."

Anko bit her lip and nodded solemnly, turned and walked back to the counter to take another hearty swig of her beer. For a very long moment she just stood there, back to Iruka, fingers drumming almost soundlessly on the damp surface of her bottle.

"Are you afraid of snakes?" She asked finally.

"Afraid?" Iruka furrowed his brow and rubbed at his scar self-consciously, "I wouldn't say _afraid_ – I don't like them, but I'm not going to freak out if I see one, or anything like that."

With a soft chuckle she turned to face him, picking up the kunai she had used to open her bottle and slicing unflinchingly into the flesh of her right thumb. There was a sharp crack of chakra, and a small black snake, no longer or wider than a stick of liquorice, coiled in her palm. It lifted its tiny, arrow-shaped head and regarded Iruka with black eyes that glittered like miniature glass beads, scenting the air with its tongue.

It was actually sort of cute, in a creepy reptilian way.

"I've invented this jutsu," Anko stroked her finger along the snake's back with surprising tenderness, "allows me to see whatever this little guy sees…it's pretty useful."

"That's…" Iruka was watching the snake with careful interest. Small as it was, he simply didn't like the creature – something about the way it moved, and the texture of its skin. He could imagine the feeling of it, and it made him itch, "Pretty impressive, you know."

"I thought so," Anko grinned, "anyway…it would be pretty difficult for either one of us to follow Kakashi without being spotted – but with this, I can stay on his tail at a safe distance and still know what's going on." She paused, and gave Iruka a very serious look, "But I won't do it unless you want me to."

Iruka gnawed on the inside of his lip. He wanted _desperately_ to know what was going on with Kakashi, no matter what it was; but his self-preservation instinct told him ignorance was bliss so long as no one was being hurt – and he knew that no matter what the outcome, he was going to feel guilty about it afterwards because he _loved_ Kakashi, he was supposed to _trust_ Kakashi.

But he had to know. It was already eating him up from the inside out.

"Alright…let's do it."

***

Arata's apartment was located in an area of the village that even the most seasoned shinobi thought twice about walking through at night. It shared the street with a public bath house of dubious quality, a tattoo parlour, a mahjong parlour, something that called itself a tea house, but was more likely a brothel, and several other disreputable "businesses". Kakashi felt as if he was attracting disease just by walking along the street, and did his best to stick to the shadows to avoid being seen by anyone. Shadowy figures lurked in doorways and alley openings, but they minded their own business as he passed.

The building Arata lived in was bare concrete covered in obscene graffiti. Arata's apartment was on the top floor. As Kakashi stood outside the door mentally preparing for what he was sure would be an infuriating night, he was forced to listen to the sound of the people next door having very loud, nasty sounding sex – punctuated by cries that were as much of pain as of pleasure, and a voice begging for more in a way that made Kakashi's stomach turn.

He banged sharply on the door and waited anxiously for a response as he watched a tiny black snake making its way across the landing. Frowning, he caught it with the edge of his sandal and, with a flick of his leg, tossed it down the stairs.

He hated snakes, just on principle.

While his attention was averted, an unseen eye darkened the peephole for an instant, and then the door swung open.

Arata was casually dressed in a half-unbuttoned dress shirt that showed off his pale, bony chest, and a pair of khaki pants; his feet were bare on the frayed entry mat. He waved Kakashi in with that oily smile like an open wound on his face and invited him to "make himself at home." The apartment was sparse, but cleaner than Kakashi expected, despite that the walls were water-stained and there was a large crack in the ceiling that surely leaked something fierce when it rained. To Kakashi's relief, he could hear the neighbours' activities only faintly through the thick concrete wall.

Kakashi seated himself at a small table in the center of the room and pulled the files out from inside his vest. Arata sat down opposite him, placing a bottle of sake and two glasses on the table.

"Want some?"

Kakashi shook his head. He hadn't taken the alcohol neutrilizing pill before he left, and it would probably be too obvious now to do so.

Arata shrugged, and poured himself some, "Are those the files?"

Kakashi nodded silently. Arata flipped the file jacket open, gave the files a cursory glance, and smiled.

"Hatake – that's fantastic. I'm really impressed."

"Thanks," Kakashi scratched his head, "I guess…"

"You've put us months – maybe even years ahead of schedule. But I guess I should expect no less from a genius."

Kakashi managed his best self-effacing laugh.

Arata sipped his sake in silence for a moment, watching Kakashi with a predatory intensity that made Kakashi's skin crawl.

"We've decided to meet in three days to get the ball rolling, so to speak," Arata said finally, "You're going to be there, right? The others are going to want to thank you."

Kakashi smiled what was, perhaps, his first genuine smile in Arata's presence, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Good," Arata nodded, pouring another glass of sake for himself and filling the empty glass in front of Kakashi, "Now, I insist that you have a drink with me – a toast – to our good fortune."

Kakashi frowned at the glass, picking it up reluctantly. Surely there wouldn't be a problem with just one glass – he had never had trouble holding his liquor before.

"Kampai," he offered, lifting the glass to his lips. The alcohol burned all the way down his throat and settled heavy in the pit of his stomach. It was good – surprisingly good, so he had another.

Normally, two drinks were not enough to floor Kakashi, but within moments, a curious warmth was crawling through Kakashi's veins, and his muscles began to feel strangely weak with the blissful, tingling prelude to full-on drunkenness.

"Oh…" Arata giggled – a frighteningly manic sound – swaying a little where he sat, "I should've said – this stuff's a little strong…the _real_ good stuff." He giggled again.

The room was rotating around Kakashi's head like a merry-go-round in slow motion, blurring everything into a long stream of color. He licked the last droplets off the bottom of his glass. It was really, really good. He honestly couldn't resist having another glass, downing it in a single gulp.

Arata's giggle became a high, frantic sound, and he doubled over with his head to the table. Someone else was laughing along with him, and Kakashi realised it was him.

The whole thing was, actually, kind of funny; the strange, tickly feeling the alcohol fed through all of his limbs felt good – like melting. Having another glass would be a good idea, he thought, but he didn't trust his fingers to pick up the bottle without spilling it all over the table, and that would be such a waste.

"You're a lightweight," Arata was laughing, rubbing at his face with both hands, "here…lemme pour it for you…"

He reached across the table, and suddenly something of Kakashi's Shinobi instincts blazed through the drunken haze that had taken over his mind. He was on a mission – in enemy territory, no longer able to properly defend himself – and he didn't want Arata too near him. He pushed backwards across the floor with his feet, and fell onto his back; Arata leaned over the table and stared at him.

"What'cha doin' down there?" He pushed the bottle to the far end of the table and crawled, haltingly, overtop of it, tumbling to the floor on top of Kakashi's legs. Panic rushed into the back of Kakashi's throat like bile, and he tried to push Arata's off with his feet, but his muscles didn't seem to be responding to him the way they should. Still, he managed to twist a little, almost freeing a foot from the unsightly weight. Arata, still laughing, crawled a little higher along the length of Kakashi's body. Kakashi reached out to stop him, but only managed to tangle his fingers in Arata's greasy hair. Arata looked up at him with hungry, half-mad eyes, and giggled again.

"Got an itch?" he teased, "Better let me check that out for you."

Kakashi's stomach lurched sharply, and he twisted his head in protest. In the corner of the room a flash of movement caught his eye – a small, black snake slipping in, and then almost immediately, out through a hole in the base of the door. It made him pause for a moment in confusion, just long enough for Arata to get a good grip on the waistband of his pants and slip one hand under his shirt.

The sensation of Arata's half-fevered, slick hand on his skin chased away Kakashi's stupefaction, suddenly and violently. He twisted, pulled one leg up, and pushed Arata away, nearly into the table. Before Arata could react to being rebuffed, Kakashi was on his feet and out the door. His vision was still swimming, and he nearly took a header down the stairs, but somehow he managed to make it to an alley a half block off, and there he all but collapsed, leaning against the wall, gasping for air, and fighting the urge to be sick. He rubbed the spot that Arata had touched compulsively, trying to rid himself of the sensation of the other man's touch.

"Sen'eijashu!"

Kakashi's clouded mind sensed the attack at the last instant – not quickly enough to do anything about it, but enough to know what was coming and brace himself for the pain as a half-dozen pairs of sharp fangs sank into various pressure points on his body, effectively pinning him against the wall. Anko's face was a shadow-darkened blur in front of his eyes, but he could feel raw fury and deadly intent radiating off her strongly enough to make his heart hesitate for a beat or two.

"You bastard," she hissed, low and menacing, "How could you?"

"You don't…" Kakashi choked out, wincing as the fangs of the largest snake sank deeper into his throat, encouraged by the tightening of Anko's fist and the vibration of Kakashi's vocal chords, "Don't understand…"

"Damn right I don't," she snarled, "and I don't want to."

He opened his mouth to protest, but the fangs sank in deeper and he choked.

"Let me make this _painfully_ clear to you, you lying bastard – if you so much as go near Iruka again I will cut you into pieces – and if you think I can't do it, you're wrong. Orochimaru taught me things that would make you run screaming like a little girl. Don't even think about asking him to forgive you – you don't deserve it. I am going to see to it personally that you _never_ have anyone better than Iruka – you can count on it."

She vanished, leaving Kakashi dazed and bleeding from a half-dozen snake bites. He couldn't seem to breathe properly, but it had nothing to do with his injuries. He couldn't even muster up the strength to follow her. There wouldn't be a point. She was probably already with Iruka, telling him everything that she thought she had seen.

And there was no way he could conclusively prove her wrong – not without risking his cover.

There was a desperate moment when he longed for the bites on his neck and arms to be poisonous – but he knew they wouldn't be.

Anko wouldn't kill him; she would leave that to Iruka.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ace in the hole

Kakashi spent the night in a tree behind the training field feeling first drunk and miserable, then as the night wore on, hung-over and miserable, and finally some time around noon, just plain miserable.

Later, as it became clear to his less inebriated mind that Anko had been following him, he felt betrayed – because Iruka was supposed to trust him. Of course, he hadn't really given the younger man much reason to, but had he really given him a reason _not_ to?

However, given the circumstances, his righteous indignation could only last so long. It was damn incriminating evidence, and given the fact that love was almost always a heart over mind kind of thing, Kakashi couldn't say that he wouldn't have been more than a little suspicious if Iruka had been acting the same way.

The worst part of the whole thing was that he had to salvage his makeshift friendship with Arata _first_ because he couldn't risk failing the mission now that Arata and his cohorts had accurate files on the ANBU, even if they were only temporarily so.

He stayed off the streets as he made his way back to the village and Arata's apartment, not wanting to risk that someone might see him and throw rotten fruit – or worse.

He banged miserably on Arata's apartment door and waited for an answer. If he couldn't salvage the mission, he would go to Tsunade and tell her where to stick it. Maybe he would demand compensation for her having ruined his life. Not that he would get it.

Arata answered the door looking like he had spent the night under a rock, and smelling like he had decided to finish off that extraordinarily potent bottle of sake all by himself.

"Oh – it's you."

"Yo…" Kakashi offered, trying to sound awkward rather than angry.

"You took off pretty quick last night," the look on Arata's face could only be described as a leer. It made Kakashi want to do a host of painful things to him, "guess I'm not as cute as that sweet little sensei you've got waiting at home, huh?"

Kakashi wanted to hurt him, badly, but he held off, chanting "All for the mission" in the back of his mind like a Buddhist mantra.

"You know how it is," he managed with false good humour, "Business is business, and pleasure is – best left to the hands of someone pretty and simple-minded, who won't ask too many questions. Makes life less complicated, don't you think?"

Arata shrugged, his face unreadable for once, "So what do you want then?"

"About that meeting…"

"Friday," Arata said brusquely, "As soon as it gets dark. Right here."

Kakashi nodded, "I'll be here then."

By way of exit, he transported himself to the roof of a nearby building, and sat brooding. Three days and his mission might finally be over and he would be able to explain everything to Iruka and sort out this terrible misunderstanding.

If he could last that long.

Three days might do irreparable damage. His heart told him to go straight to Iruka right then and try to explain – even if he had to make something up.

_Liar_ the voice inside his head hissed, sounding a lot like Anko right at that moment, _That's how all this went so wrong in the first place, because you had to go around telling lies._

He hadn't had a choice, but that didn't make him feel any better.

Perhaps it was best not to put the lies on too thick. That would only make the ultimate truth-telling that much more difficult.

But that didn't make him happy either. Doing a variety of excruciatingly painful things to Arata – now _that_ would have made him happy.

"Hatake-san," the ANBU operative appeared with an obvious pop of chakra, wise enough not to sneak up on an obviously tense and agitated Kakashi. Kakashi stood up in response, but did not look in the direction of the new arrival, "Hokage-sama has been anxiously awaiting you. You had an appointment for this morning I believe. I'm certain you've realized that you're quite late – later than usual."

"I won't be making a report today," Kakashi said, in a tone of voice he knew personally was hard to argue with. He had copied it from Iruka.

"Hatake-san, I think…"

"I think you're should leave now," Kakashi said, his voice all the more terrifying because it was under-laid with barely repressed, deeply intense, emotion, "and tell Hokage-_sama_ that I will make my report when I am _ready_ to make my report."

The ANBU operative hesitated for an instant, cleared his throat nervously, and then said, with no small amount of reluctance, "Yes sir."

It said something for Kakashi's reputation that the members of ANBU didn't know whose temper to fear more – his or Tsunade's.

On the way back to the training field to wait out his three days of miserable purgatory, Kakashi stopped on a rooftop where he could have a clear look through the windows of Iruka's classroom. He managed only the briefest of glimpses of the other man through the window, before Iruka pulled down the shade.

***

The first night without Kakashi had been bad.

The second one was shaping up to be far, far worse. At least the night before Anko had been there to distract him from the suffocating emptiness of the house.

Iruka had expected the Jonin to show up and offer some explanation – even an unbelievable one – he had at least expected Kakashi to try. He had thought he was worth the attempt, but apparently he was wrong. All he had seen of Kakashi since the morning before the disastrous spying incident with Anko was a glimpse through a classroom window.

And it had almost broken his heart.

The house was so empty and quiet that part of Iruka wanted to scream just to fill the silence – or in the hopes that he might wake up from whatever terrible nightmare it was that had gripped him, wake up with Kakashi holding him and stroking his hair, murmuring "_It's alright pretty baby – I'm right here – you're safe…_"

Iruka stifled a yawn and rubbed at his gritty eyes with both hands. It was nearly midnight and he hadn't been able to concentrate long enough to grade so much as a single assignment. He decided to go to bed. There was no point in trying to make something of the night anymore.

He drifted off for a few hours, only to wake up around three am with a single thought in his head:

_Where's Kakashi?_

It took him a very long moment to remember that Kakashi wasn't going to be coming home that night – and maybe not ever again. He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow to stifle the sound of anguish that threatened to rise from his throat, but he was on Kakashi's side of the bed, and it was Kakashi's pillow underneath his cheek, smelling of shampoo, turned earth and something distinctly animal. Iruka's eyes burned, and he sat up abruptly, throwing the pillow across the room. It thumped listlessly against the wall.

A sudden, blind fury seized him: fury at Kakashi, and somehow at himself as well, because he had promised himself that he wouldn't be hurt like that again, and yet there he was, feeling the intense sting of betrayal in the depths of his heart; feeling, for all intents and purposes like he was going to die. He stumbled out of the bed and pulled the blanket to the floor around his feet, and once he had begun he couldn't seem to stop until he had stripped the bed of all the pillows and sheets, reduced it to a bare mattress. But that _smell_ was still swirling in the air, earth and sweat, soap and warm fur. It made Iruka long to stop breathing, because every time he inhaled that scent, he remembered a million little things that were a torment to his soul – battle-roughened hands rubbing soothingly across his abs, scarred fingers tracing indecipherable patterns along his spine, warm, damp lips pressed against the nape of his neck, hot breath whispering "_I love you Iruka – my pretty baby – love you so much._"

"Dammit…" Iruka spat, kicking at the lump of sheet listlessly, his eyes burning with tears he refused to shed, because he hated the thought of mourning the loss of someone who didn't want him – maybe had never really wanted him.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit Kakashi – damn you – damn you for making me love you…dammit Iruka you're such an idiot."

The worst part of it all was that he couldn't really hate Kakashi, though he desperately wanted to, if only out of the hope that it would ease the pain; just as he had never really been able to hate Mizuki. He would always remember Mizuki as the friend who had helped him through the hardest part of his life, provided him comfort and stability in a world that seemed entirely too unstable. And Iruka knew that no matter how angry he became, he would always remember the gentle, loving Kakashi who had seemed to look on him with such adoration, and all the loving words he had whispered, even if they were only lies.

***

Kakashi spent the day before his meeting with Arata sitting on the roof of the academy. He was exhausted and miserable from three long nights of guilt and loneliness, and wanted desperately to go to Iruka – more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, or at least it seemed that way – but the academy rooftop was the closest he could get to Iruka without Anko showing up to threaten him with various injuries of the body and soul.

There was a choking knot in his throat as he watched Iruka leave the academy, roughly an hour before sunset, and he knew that the Chunin was trying to lose himself in work to alleviate the pain. Kakashi wished he had the same luxury.

He leaned over the edge of the roof to get a closer look at Iruka's retreating back, his chest aching with the desire to call out to him, and just when it seemed like he might have the courage to do it, a large green and black snake crawled over his hand, hissing sharply.

"Oh fuck off," he snarled in frustration, impaling the creature on a kunai and watching with a sort sick relief as it squirmed in pain for a moment before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

He sat with his back against the roof's edge and watched the sky grow dark, trying to fight off the desolation that threatened to overwhelm him. He had no idea what he was going to do if things didn't go back to the way they had been before after his mission was over. If he had lost Iruka for good…

Kakashi choked back a sound in his throat that could have very well become a sob. He knew what heartbreak was, and that was what the thought of losing Iruka forever felt like – complete and total heartbreak, the same sort that had plunged him into dark, near-inescapable places after Obito, Sensei and Rin had died.

He needed Iruka, more than he had told himself he would ever need anyone again.

He sat on the rooftop for awhile, because being early wasn't his style, and he needed the time to collect himself, to become a ninja instead of a heartbroken fool. The only thing that eventually got him off his ass was the hope that this would be the last night he ever had to lay eyes on that bastard Arata.

***

"You're late," Arata sneered irritably, "Though I shouldn't be surprised."

"Are you going to let me in, or what?" Kakashi tried to sound as if he didn't care either way. A large part of him didn't.

Arata stepped aside and allowed him in.

There were six other men in the apartment, which made it seem even smaller than it already was. All but one had their faces concealed, at least in part – by masks like Kakashi's, wrapped bandages, high hoods or face paint. Kakashi didn't recognize even the one whose face he could clearly see. They were all dressed as if prepared for a mission, and not a single one displayed a headband bearing an emblem other than that of Konoha.

"This is it?" Kakashi didn't have to fake the note of disdain in his voice.

"This is all we need," Arata's voice was harsh with anger, "Unless you don't think that this will be enough."

Kakashi sneered, unable to believe he had effectively ruined his life for a bunch of wanna-be loser ninja with delusions of grandeur – seven men whose chakra levels were so pathetically small from what Kakashi could sense around him, that he probably could have killed them all with his little finger and never break a sweat. He couldn't believe that these people were the ones selling village secrets and planning to take on the ANBU and overthrow the Hokage.

"I don't think this is my scene after all," Kakashi sighed, turning back towards the door. He'd go to the Hokage that night and report what he had seen – a lot of childish fools making childish mistakes; let them be rounded up and punished for selling secrets or whatever it was they were really doing, they hardly posed a threat to anyone besides themselves. "You can do whatever you want with the files."

"Hey, hey…" Arata put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, and Kakashi resisted the urge to sock him in the mouth, "We're just warming up Hatake, stick around a while."

Against his better judgement, Kakashi allowed himself to be steered back into the room, his shinobi senses telling him that maybe, just maybe they had some ace in the hole that might be worth discovering. He leaned himself casually against the wall and didn't have to put much effort into looking disinterested.

The room had been cleared in the center, the table propped up against the wall to make more floor space, and the rug had been pulled aside to bare the concrete floor. Kakashi recognized it as what he thought was the preparation for a summon of some kind, although the chakra lines hadn't been laid yet.

"Are we summoning something?"

Arata laughed, "Not hardly. Orochimaru tried that trick, remember? It didn't exactly work out. What we're doing here is a lot more sophisticated. We had to trade good information for all the tools needed to develop this jutsu."

Kakashi's interest was perked, and suddenly he was glad he hadn't walked out the door.

"It's basically an advanced henge," Arata continued, "the biggest difference being that it doesn't require any chakra on the part of the user to maintain."

"Sounds like a pretty complicated technique," Kakashi, for his part, had never heard of anything like it. As far as he was aware, all jutsu required some sustained release of chakra, except for summon creatures.

"So how does it work?"

Arata positioned himself in the center of the floor, and the six others arranged themselves around him, "Come stand here Hatake – you'll be seeing double in a minute."

Kakashi hesitated. He didn't know what the jutsu was actually going to do. Arata could easily be lying about it – although Kakashi couldn't detect any deception from him. He edged up his headband up enough to see out from under it, pretending to scratch his nose. With his Sharingan bared, he should, theoretically be able to see and counter any attack before it hit him. The sooner he humoured Arata, the sooner he would be able to report to the Hokage, end the mission, and try to patch things up with Iruka.

He stepped cautiously into the circle, and the other men closed in the gaps, making him distinctly nervous, and forcing him farther in until he was nearly nose to nose with Arata.

Arata's face broke into that slimy grin of his, and Kakashi shuddered, despite himself, "Are you ready?"

"Uh…" Kakashi scratched his head anxiously, "Sure…"

The men around the circle began making hand signs, and Kakashi could feel the chakra building, prickling along his skin, but it didn't seem dangerous, wasn't directed towards him. And then, all at once there was a flash of chakra so bright that Kakashi actually cried out in pain. The vision from his Sharingan became nothing but a smear of white, and a lance of agony shot straight from the eye to the base of his brain. His other eye went blurry as he slumped to the ground, paralysed by lighting bolts of pain shooting from his blinded eye all the way through his body. He could feel an immense foreign chakra assaulting him from all sides, forcing its way through his skin like ice-cold alien fingers seeking to tear him apart from the inside out. He tried to raise his own chakra to force it out, but his efforts had the opposite effect – the tendrils of pain and _wrongness_ used his open chakra pathways to force their way deeper inside his body, causing all his muscles to tense unnaturally as his lungs were robbed of air, his stomach lurched and his heart struggled to beat.

His last conscious awareness was of Arata laughing at him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the hammer falls

Kakashi was in pain.

His first awareness was of a steady ache in his head, radiating from his Sharingan eye, and sending little, heated tendrils of misery all through his body. It was worryingly difficult to breathe, but he couldn't seem to collect his thoughts enough to begin searching his body for injuries. He concentrated on just trying to move, but he couldn't do that either.

"Hey – It'd be pretty pathetic for you to lie there the whole time. At least open your eyes."

Kakashi knew that voice, but unless he was having some kind of out of body experience, he shouldn't have been able to hear it outside his own head. He cracked open one eye, keeping his throbbing left eye protectively closed, somehow knowing that he wouldn't be able to see out of it anyhow. What he saw was his own face grinning at him with a smile that he knew wasn't it own. He recognized the expression however – slick and sanctimonious, wickedly delighted.

That bastard Arata was wearing his face.

"Pretty great huh?" Arata laughed, "I look just like you. Well – not just," He tapped his cheek under his left eye and Kakashi noticed there was no Sharingan there, or even an approximation of one; just Arata's fever-bright brown eye, "Guess the damn thing can't copy Kekkei Genkai – but better to know that now than later."

He rocked back on his heels, still grinning, and Kakashi tried to go after him, but his muscles weren't responding. It felt distinctly as if he had overused his Sharingan, and drained all his chakra. What little movement he could manage revealed that his hands and ankles were quite securely bound, although he probably could have been held in place with dental floss given how unbearably weak he felt.

"All in all, I'd say it was pretty successful, don't you think?"

Kakashi managed a grunt. His lungs didn't seem to be willing to give him more than that.

Arata chuckled, "And you thought we were going to try and _fight_ the ANBU? We're not fools you know. We're going to _become_ the ANBU."

He giggled, that sharp manic giggle Kakashi had heard before on the night he was drunk.

"Granted," he continued, "It's only on the outside – but that's what counts in this case. Just as long as no one can tell that we're not who we say we are it won't matter."

He patted Kakashi condescendingly on the top of the head, sending fresh bolts of pain through the Jonin's body. Rage boiled in Kakashi's guts, but it still wasn't enough to give him the strength to move.

"It's all pretty seamless, don't you think? I've got your face, your voice, even your chakra. You're completely helpless."

Kakashi tensed, desperate to get free and wipe the arrogant smirk off Arata's face, trying to ignore the pain in his muscles; but he could barely manage to clench his fists, and the ropes that held him seemed incredibly strong, biting into his wrists mercilessly.

"Arata," one of the other men called sharply, making him glance up, "don't you think we should test this out a little more thoroughly?"

There were murmurs of agreement throughout the room. Arata looked back at Kakashi, a smile like a mask of death spreading over his face, making Kakashi's stomach turn and his skin crawl as if it were trying to leave his bones behind.

"You know…That's a really great idea…" he rocked forward, still grinning riotously, as if he had just thought of the funniest thing in the world, "You know what I wonder? I wonder how well your sweet little sensei will be able to tell the difference between you and me."

Kakashi's heart twisted with rage at the sick glee on Arata's face, and he managed – though just barely – to force a sound out of his throat.

"If you…" He took a sharp, agonized breath and snarled through his teeth, "If you touch him…I – I'll kill you."

There was enough fury, in his voice and enough pure deadly intent in his eyes that some of the other men in the room actually took a step back, despite that he was bound, and so weak he couldn't have killed an insect if someone had pinned it down for him first. However, it didn't seem to faze Arata in the slightest. He just smiled that implacably arrogant smile and said, "Well, it won't be _me_ touching him Hatake – it'll be _you_."

***

If Iruka had been a little less depressed, he would have been able to enjoy the tingly drunkenness that was making its slow yet determined way through his limbs. On the other hand, if he had been just a little more drunk, he would have been able to forget that he was depressed all together. But as it was, he was just drunk enough for his depression to be brought into stark relief by what little alcohol he had consumed, and to be further depressed by the knowledge.

"You look so sad 'ruka…" Anko slurred, staggering sideways nearly into a lamp-post before Iruka caught her by the coat, "You shoulda had more to drink…"

"I think you've had more than enough for the both of us Anko," he replied flatly, tugging helpfully on her arm when she nearly walked on past the house without him.

His house. Kakashi's house. Their house.

Or not.

"'ruuuka…" Anko whined, pulling on the collar of his vest, "You're looking sad again! Don't be sad!"

Sighing heavily, he fumbled the keys out of his pocket and opened the door for Anko to stumble through.

"Look Anko – I really appreciate the fact that you're trying to cheer me up but…"

"'s not good enough…" Anko grunted miserably, nearly falling off the split level into the living room and collapsing on the couch, "I know. You should find yerself a nice girl 'ruka…"

Iruka actually managed to laugh at that, "If this is the point when you tell me you're a nice girl…"

"Nah…" Anko sprawled gracelessly on the couch, head pillowed on her arm, watching him through heavy lidded eyes, "I'll never be a nice girl…"

Iruka sighed again, touching her shoulder sympathetically, "Come on Anko – you could be a perfectly…"

Anko cut in with a sound that was suspiciously like a snore. Iruka frowned.

"Anko?"

She didn't answer. He poked her a few times.

"Anko-chan…"

She was out like a light. Iruka sighed yet again in what he hoped was an understanding way, and went to retrieve a spare blanket from the closet. Better for her to sleep it off on the couch, he supposed. She tended to get into the worst kind of trouble when she was drunk. Once he had her safely covered up and was sure that she wasn't going to either fall of the couch in the night or puke on the floor (he pushed a wastebasket over just for that purpose), he wandered off to the bedroom.

Clean sheets had helped him recover from his issues over Kakashi's scent in the bed, but as he lay awake and felt the minutes ticking by without sleep, he began to feel more and more miserable. He remembered how it felt the first weeks after Mizuki had betrayed him – and it had been hard, but he had gotten over it; and he was sure, in the tiny, brutally rational part of his mind, that he would get over this as well. But it was going to be a hell of a lot harder. Things were different with Kakashi than with Mizuki, there was no denying it. With Mizuki it had been a sudden thing, a relationship of convenience more than anything. Mizuki had turned to him, one night after drinks (though they hadn't been drunk – it would have been a cop-out to say that) and in that rough, almost painfully blunt tone he always used outside the academy, had said "Wanna fuck?"; and Iruka had said yes mostly because he couldn't think of a reason to say no.

It had never been about love between them, although Iruka had tried, for a while, to love Mizuki, mostly because he thought he should, it had just never happened.

With Kakashi it had been so – so different.

He could still remember the night that Kakashi had said those words to him for the first time. They had been in Kakashi's bed, Iruka half-asleep in post-coital languor with his head resting on Kakashi's chest listening to the gradual slowing of the Jonin's heartbeat when he had heard, very softly, almost guiltily, Kakashi mumble, "I love you…"

Iruka had sat up abruptly, honestly surprised, not the least of all because right at that moment he had been thinking _"I wonder how exactly I'm supposed to go about telling him I love him"_ and Kakashi had looked away quickly.

"I shouldn't have said that."

"What? Why not Kakashi?" Iruka's heart had honestly felt at that moment like was going to fall to pieces.

Kakashi had shook his head, almost frantic, "No – no…the people I love…bad things happen to them. I really shouldn't have said anything."

With a soft, understanding sigh, Iruka had kissed Kakashi's cheek gently, "Bad things happen all the time Kakashi – that isn't going to stop me from loving you."

And Iruka had kissed the Jonin senseless before he could come up with any more protests.

It had all seemed so right back then, and now everything was in shambles.

For a while, Iruka drifted into an uneasy sleep, only to be awakened by someone climbing in the bedroom window.

His first instinct was to leap out of bed and confront the intruder, but he suppressed it, instead focusing on moving his hand towards the edge of the bed and the kunai concealed between the mattress and the box spring, stopping just short when he recognised the chakra signature.

Then he felt perfectly justified in jumping up and confronting the intruder.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Kakashi looked at him with an infuriating expression of innocence on his masked face.

"Sneaking in the window," he replied snidely, "there's someone in the living room."

"That's Anko," Iruka growled, "and you have about ten seconds before I call her in here to help me kick your ass. If you think you can just come in here after – after whatever the hell you were doing with that other guy – and not offer me so much as a 'by your leave', you've got another thing coming."

For a moment there was something on Kakashi's face that could only be described as honest incomprehension. Then he smiled, and for some reason the sight set off an alarm bell in the back of Iruka's mind. It didn't seem right.

"Aw c'mon babe – it didn't mean anything."

Iruka bristled, furious, "Then I guess _I_ don't mean anything _either_."

"Sure you _do_…" Kakashi purred silkily, and there was that alarm again, accompanied by a distinct prickling of the hairs on the back of Iruka's neck. "It shouldn't matter as long as I come back to you."

"Shouldn't matter?" Iruka's fury momentarily drowned out his instincts and the sense of something being amiss, "Well, it might not matter to you, but it sure as hell matters to me. I'm not going to sit here and listen to your bullshit promises while you're off with someone else. I'm nobody's fuck toy – got it?"

Kakashi actually sneered at that – and the expression made Iruka's blood run cold. There was something inherently dangerous in it – inherently uncaring; and he made a grab for Iruka's wrist. Iruka twisted out of the Jonin's reach and went for the kunai under the mattress, because the instinctual part of his mind was howling at him that _something was not right_, and when he spun back on his heel the kunai was nearly at Kakashi's throat before the Jonin's hand came up and stopped it. Iruka's sane mind was howling _oh shit, oh shit oh shit_; some other, less human part was goading _do it! Make him hurt!_ and the rational part was reeling at the sheer improbability that he should be able to get a weapon anywhere near Kakashi's throat.

The two men stared at one another across the bare inches of space that separated them. Kakashi's single eye was stone dead, without a trace of emotion, and it made Iruka feel sick.

"Just what are you planning to do with that?" Kakashi asked.

Iruka took a step back, and Kakashi released his arm without resistance. Tension crackled in the air like electricity from a live wire.

"Get out."

Kakashi's expression didn't change, "I don't think I will," he took a step towards Iruka, and the Chunin fell back despite himself, his knees hitting the edge of the bed, "You were stupid enough to threaten me – now I'm going to stay here until you give me what I want – whether you like it or not."

Iruka's fist struck the side of Kakashi's face with a sound like a thunder-crack, sending the Jonin reeling sideways, cursing and clutching his face. His headband clattered to the floor and he bent double, snarling in outrage like a wild dog. Iruka reeled, half with outrage and half with shock, because he was certain he had never struck someone with such complete malice in his heart, and had almost opened his mouth to apologize when Kakashi straightened up abruptly.

There was the promise of death in the mismatched eyes that looked at Iruka, but they weren't Kakashi's eyes – or at least, one of them wasn't.

Before Iruka could make clear sense of what he was seeing, a voice called, "Iruka, what th' hell is goin' on?" and the bedroom door swung open. Only the fact that, even half-drunk Anko still had damn fine instincts, kept her from getting a kunai in the head.

"What the fuck Hatake?!" she snarled from her newly crouched stance in the doorway, survival instinct trumping drunkenness and clearing her eyes.

Iruka moved quickly to put himself between Anko and the intruder, "That's not Kakashi."

"What the hell do you mean?" She demanded, incredulous, "Sure as hell looks like him."

"Look closer," Iruka urged, "there's no Sharingan."

There was a pause, and then Anko said, "Well shit…"

The fake Kakashi made a move backwards, and there was a pop of chakra as Anko relocated herself from behind Iruka to between the fake and the window, boxing him in.

"Where ya headed handsome?" she drawled menacingly. A great black snake was coiled lovingly around her arm, and it raised its head and hissed warningly at him, globules of amber venom dripping from its wide mouth.

The fake Kakashi spat a long string of curses, and brought his hands together; but Iruka lunged forward in attack before he could form any signs, kicking him soundly between the shoulder-blades. He sprawled forward, and Anko brought a knee up into his face and a fist down on the back of his skull. He fell hard to the floor, but managed to roll aside reaching for a weapon before Iruka could pin him down. The fake rolled up on one knee, launching a handful of shuriken; at such close proximity it was hard to miss. One grazed Iruka's shoulder, another tore through his sweatpants and cut deep into his hip, but he managed to dodge the rest, side-stepping and kicking his attacker in the head.

"Ayatsuito no Jutsu!" a mass of wires wound themselves around the fake Kakashi's ankles, pulling him roughly sideways and dragging him across the carpet as Anko reeled him in like a fish on a hook. Iruka drove a knee hard into the small of the man's back, pinning him to the floor, and grabbed a handful of hair his hair to haul his head back, dragging the mask down.

The face underneath the cloth was Kakashi's as well, but Iruka new that whoever was underneath that was not Kakashi at all.

"Alright – just who the hell are you?"

The man spat blood onto the bedroom carpet, "Fuck you…"

"Tried that already, didn't turn out too well, did it?" Iruka sneered, making Anko look up curiously from where she had busied herself fastening the phoney Jonin's hands above his head and pinning them to the rug with carefully placed kunai.

"Get the hell off me," the fake tried again.

Iruka placed the tip of his kunai delicately under the man's glassy, rage-darkened brown eye, "If you want to be just like him, we'll have to get rid of that eye of yours, won't we?"

Anko was watching them both very carefully now, but she didn't say anything.

"If you don't want to walk around looking like a pirate for the rest of your life, you're going to answer my questions."

"You wouldn't dare…"

"Oh?" Iruka smirked, "Because you look like him, is that what you think? Let me tell you something, whoever you are – it's not the outside that I care about. Maybe I'll just peel your skin away and see what's underneath."

He pressed his kunai into the man's cheek, drawing a tiny bead of blood. The man snarled in pain.

"Where's the real Kakashi?" Iruka demanded, "What did you do to him?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Anko gave the bindings a sharp tug, unnecessarily tightening the knots and causing the wires to bite into the fake Kakashi's wrists until he grunted in pain, "Better tell him what he wants to know, or I'll pretend you're the real Kakashi and really _enjoy_ kicking the shit out of you…not that I wouldn't enjoy doing it now, but I would enjoy it just that little bit more."

"Just try it bitch."

Anko gave the ropes another ruthless pull, and the fake howled in pain.

"Tell me what you did to him," Iruka commanded, "Did you hurt him?"

The impostor laughed, a high, maddened cackling sound, half-swollen brown eye bright with sick delight, "Fucking Jonin all think they're such hot shit – I hope he's suffering right now – you should have heard him scream!"

Iruka drove the handle of his kunai into the side of the man's skull with a bone-jarring crack and his eyes rolled back in his head as he was hurled into unconsciousness. Blood leaked from his split scalp, soaking into artificially silver hair.

"Shit," Anko hissed, "you overdid it. We're not getting the information out of him now. You probably gave the bastard permanent brain damage."

"Good," Iruka growled, standing and retrieving his Chunin vest from the bedpost, pulling it on without a shirt, "we don't have time to torture the information out of him, Kakashi is in trouble _now_. When you followed him the other night, where did he go?"

Anko looked up from double-knotting the impostors bonds, "Just to some shit-hole apartment on the far end of the village."

Iruka opened the hidden panel inside the bedroom closet and pulled out a handful of the most useful supplies he could see, "Take me there."

"Gods…" Anko sighed, "I'm too drunk for this still. Shouldn't we call in some backup?"

"No time. Kakashi needs my help now."

Iruka was already heading for the door, and Anko gave the unconscious false Kakashi a good, swift kick – to make sure he was really out – before she followed.

***

Crouched on the rooftop across the street from the apartment, Iruka ground his teeth together and clenched his fists so tightly that his nails bit into his palms. The curtains were pulled tightly shut, but he could see shadows moving on the other side – at least four of them. Each second that he sat there doing nothing was agony, and he continuously shot anxious glances at Anko – who sat with her eyes closed, channelling her vision through the eyes of her snake. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her eyes snapped open.

"Six of them," Anko announced, "and Kakashi is there – he's not in good shape Iruka."

Iruka bit back a snarl of frustration, mind working a mile a minute. He might not have been able to formulate one hundred strategies like Shikamaru, but he could come up with at least one.

"Where's the door relative to the window?"

"Directly across almost," Anko answered.

"And Kakashi?"

"On the floor in between them. What are you thinking?"

"Remember the mission we had to rescue that lord's daughter…"

Anko did remember. She grinned, "The old bait and switch…Iruka you're a genius."

"I try," Iruka pulled a hand full of smoke bombs from his vest pocket, his jaw set with almost frightening determination, "Let's do it."

They each sent a clone around to the front of the apartment to break in the door, effectively drawing the attention of the room's occupants while, with a synchronicity born of long friendship, the real Anko and Iruka broke through the window, blanketing the room in smoke.

One of the men went down when the explosive tag on the window detonated, clutching at his glass-studded head and neck. Iruka took out two others by banging their heads together. Anko sent one crashing headlong into the wall, cracked another ones head on the floor, and threw the last one out the broken door and off the landing. Before the smoke had fully cleared, Iruka was on his knees next to Kakashi.

"Kakashi! Kakashi, wake up!"

The Jonin was sickly pale, his skin almost translucent, and so cold he might as well have been made of ice. He didn't respond to Iruka's presence at all.

"Kakashi come on," he smoothed his lover's hair back off his face, pulled back his mask to make sure he was breathing. He was, though just barely. His chakra was dangerously low. "Talk to me love, open your eyes. Please."

"Shit!" Anko spat, slicing free the ropes around Kakashi's arms and legs, "This is bad Iruka."

"I know that!" He spat, struggling to haul the larger man onto his back, "Go get someone, I'll follow you to the hospital!"

Anko nodded sharply, taking off out the window, Iruka struggling at her heels.

"Don't you dare do this Kakashi," he growled, "don't you even _dare_."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amends are made

"A _mission_?" Iruka stared Tsunade down with furious incredulity. Lesser folk had withered under the force of that glare, but Tsunade stared back unflinchingly.

"Don't be so insulted," she huffed irritably, "you're a shinobi; you know damn well that duty to the village comes before individual desire."

"That's fine for you to say," Iruka muttered darkly, "But we're people, not pawns."

Tsunade yawned heavily, leaning back in her chair, "You have some official complaint to make then?"

Iruka swallowed thickly, trying to smother the flame of outrage in his chest. He couldn't very well yell at the Hokage, but he really _wanted_ to. Of course he knew the duties of a shinobi – he wasn't a fool. It was just that sometimes – more often now that he knew Kakashi, knew better the hardships that high-ranking ninja especially were forced to endure – he didn't like them.

"Kakashi could have anyone," he began haltingly. Tsunade's eyebrow quirked, but she didn't say anything, so Iruka pressed ahead, "or he could have no one at all. And maybe people think that he would be better off with another Jonin, someone who understands the hardships involved with holding that kind of rank – but I don't think that's the case. Kakashi needs what anyone else needs – stability, something he can count on to not disappear when he turns his back."

"You can't promise that," Tsunade snorted, "you're a ninja, just like he is."

"I love him," Iruka paused, taking a deep breath to steady the trembling in his hands, feeling his face heat up under the intensity of Tsunade's gaze, "That's the one constant thing I can offer him, and you threatened that. Kakashi has spent his whole life in the service of this village – he gave up his childhood, he puts his life at risk every time he goes on a mission – I would think that he deserves _something_ of his own, something that's not a part of this damn game we're supposed to be playing."

Iruka stopped abruptly, feeling his chest tighten as his temper threatened to run away with him. Tsunade regarded him levelly, calculating.

"You can't seriously expect me to promise that this won't have to happen again," she said finally.

Iruka set his jaw fiercely, but didn't say a word. He didn't expect Tsunade to give him or Kakashi special treatment any more than he would expect Kakashi to give up his position as a ninja. What he wanted was for Tsunade to come down off her high horse long enough to remember that she couldn't treat Kakashi – or any ninja – as if he were mentally and physically indestructible.

"You love him?"

Iruka nodded.

"You'd be willing to die for him?"

"I would – but a lot of people have done that already. I want…" Iruka took a deep breath again, and gods but he was red in the face and he knew it, "I want to be able to live for him, to give him something he can count on – as much as any ninja can count on anything – but I can't do that if he's required to take missions that interfere with his ability to trust me."

Tsunade regarded him appraisingly for a long moment, and Iruka could hardly keep his heart steady for the weight of her gaze. For a time her face was so serious that Iruka feared she would order him to end the relationship (it was a well-known but little-exercised right of the Hokage to dissolve any relationships between ninja that were felt to be detrimental either to a ninja's health or ability to work) and there was no doubt in his mind that he would fight such a command every step of the way, even if it was futile.

"Alright," she said finally, shattering the tension in the room like fine glass with a hammer, "I'll grant you as much of Kakashi's trust as he's willing to give – if that happens to be all of it, then so be it. As long as you understand all of the risks involved…"

"I do," Iruka nodded sharply, not wanting to let her finish.

Tsunade sighed, rubbing her temples irritably, "Fine then, get out of here. I just know this is going to come back and bite me in the ass later, but better to have him as a happy border-line basket-case than a miserable one."

Iruka bowed deeply, if only to hide the moronic grin of sheer joy that was spreading across his face.

***

The hospital was almost eerily quiet in the hours just before dawn. It felt to Iruka like a place were nothing was meant to live, but he knew it was only his personal bias, vestiges of his first childhood memory of sitting in the emergency room with blood running down his face.

Outside Kakashi's room, the doctor was waiting for him.

"How is he?"

The doctor bit back a sigh. His face was pale and heavy-lidded with exhaustion, "Hatake-san gave us quite a scare – then again, he's nearly always doing that. Whatever jutsu was used on him, it did quite a lot of damage to his chakra pathways. We had to call in a consulting member of the Hyuga clan to help us get him stabilized. Thankfully, he's pulled through."

Iruka was so light-hearted with relief he thought he might float away, "So, you still don't know what did it?"

The doctor shook his head, "The ANBU are still working on determining that, but Hatake-san seems fine now in any case – well, not fine – it will still be at least two weeks before his chakra pathways are fully healed, and I'd wager another week after that before he's fit enough for missions again. Of course, knowing him, he'll be bored out of his mind and begging to be back in the field in three days."

"I'll make sure he gets proper rest," Iruka promised, "may I see him?"

"He's sleeping now."

"I won't wake him, I just want to…"

The doctor chuckled in understanding, "Go right ahead."

He opened the door helpfully, and closed it behind Iruka as the Chunin stepped inside. The room was dark, and it took a moment for Iruka's eyes to adjust as he stood breathing in the smell of antiseptic barely masking the tang of feverish sweat. When his eyes had adjusted, he stepped forward, making his footfalls silent on the hard floor, and drew back the curtain around the bed.

Kakashi was curled on his side, in his usual sleeping position. That, in and of itself was a relief, because it meant Kakashi was sleeping-normal, not sleeping-drugged or sleeping-unconscious. He looked unnaturally pale against the pristine hospital sheets. There was a large bandage over his Sharingan, and one of the nurses had been kind enough to conceal his face behind a surgical mask.

Most of the hospital staff knew him well enough to cater to his eccentricities.

Iruka lowered himself carefully into the chair next to the bed, wincing at the pain in his newly-healed hip-wound. He reached out gingerly and brushed his fingers against Kakashi's cheek; the Jonin didn't respond, but some warmth was coming back into his skin again.

Iruka had tried to hold them back, but the tears came anyway – tears of pain and fear and anger and relief so intense that he trembled with it.

He combed his fingers carefully, lovingly through Kakashi's swear-matted silver hair and cried himself to sleep.

***

For the second time in far too recent memory, Kakashi awoke in pain.

Fortunately, unlike the last time, this was pain much dulled by healing techniques and good drugs.

This came as a relief if only because it meant that he wasn't dead.

For a while, he lay very still (less pain that way) and tried to remember what had happened. It came back to him all too quickly – Arata using some kind of jutsu to impersonate him, threatening Iruka, and then pain, intense pain, and the vague sense of dying.

But he wasn't dead. He was fairly certain by the sour, too-clean smell in the air that he was in the hospital. His eye hurt, throbbed mercilessly, which was a sure sign that something was wrong with his chakra system – the Sharingan was always the first warning sign when he really fucked his body up. He cracked his remaining eye open slowly, painfully, and saw what he was reasonably sure was the back of Iruka's head.

At least, it was a mess of brown hair and a tanned, muscular arm with a shoulder covered in a bloodied bandage. Kakashi moved his hand carefully – and gods did it hurt fantastically – and brushed his fingers against his lover's arm.

Iruka stirred, mumbling, but didn't wake.

"I-Iruka…" Kakashi coughed, hating how weak his own voice sounded. He hadn't even been this destroyed after overusing his Sharingan in the Land of Waves. He felt like he'd been made the chew-toy of an entire pack of Inuzuka dogs.

Iruka came awake with a jolt, nearly falling off the chair that held him, and his eyes flickered to Kakashi instantly – their sleep-clouded brown irises going very suddenly bright with startled relief.

"You're awake!" it was clear from the tension in his shoulders that he wanted to throw his arms around Kakashi, but he held off, which was probably wise considering that Kakashi felt like a tenderized pork loin, "Oh Kakashi – are you alright? How do you feel?"

Iruka's electric relief tickled along Kakashi's skin, feeding him energy by osmosis, "Like shit, honestly. What happened – are you…"

"I'm_ fine_," Iruka said with just a little too much forcefulness, meaning that it had to be a lie on some level, "everything's fine. They caught them all."

"Arata…" Kakashi ventured, the name leaving a bad taste in his mouth, "Did he..."

"No," Iruka touched the bandage on his shoulder, "this is nothing. You should have seen what I did to him."

Kakashi tried to imagine. He hoped it was even half as bad as the images his mind conjured.

"Iruka, I'm sorry."

"Oh shut up," Iruka sighed, tangling his fingers through Kakashi's. The touch was infinitely soothing, everything he'd been missing for those long days when he feared he had lost Iruka for good – the tactile contact and the sense of love it conveyed. Iruka had asked him once about his obsession with touching him, with cuddling; one day he might explain it.

"It was a mission," Iruka continued, "I understand. You just did what you had to do. Sometimes we all have to put the mission first."

"Those who abandon their friends are worse than scum…" Kakashi sighed, "I wonder what that makes me?"

"I thought I told you to shut up," Iruka grumbled sourly; his eyes shone with repressed tears, "if I cared about any of that, I wouldn't be with you. And you are _not_ scum. If you _ever_ say anything like that again, there's going to be hell to pay."

Iruka's eyes glittered with furious indignation, but Kakashi continued on anyway, because his sense of pride wouldn't allow him to let up until he had said his piece.

"I didn't sleep with him."

"I wouldn't care if you had – it was a mission – sometimes we use our bodies for a mission."

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Kakashi squeezed his hand fiercely, ignoring the pain in his joints, "But I didn't Iruka."

Iruka smiled, touched his arm gently, "Okay Kakashi, I believe you. And I'm glad. Really glad."

Relief loosened Kakashi's muscles. He hadn't even realised how tense he was until the pain drained away.

"You're going to tell Anko right?"

"I'm pretty sure she already knows. She helped me rescue you."

"I never realized how frighteningly devoted she was to you," Kakashi shuddered involuntarily at the memory of Anko's fury, "I guess it's a good thing. At least I know someone will be behind you if something happens to me."

"Idiot," Iruka rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, "You're the only one I want behind me."

Kakashi tried to laugh at that, but it hurt too much, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. Iruka looked at him in panicked sympathy.

"Are you alright? Should I get someone?"

"No…" Kakashi managed weakly as he recovered himself, "Just stay. I want you to stay."

"Alright," his tone brimmed over with barely contained worry. Kakashi knew that if he fell asleep again, Iruka would sneak off to find the doctor.

Kakashi shifted, very carefully, on to his back to make himself more comfortable on the bed, and Iruka helped him readjust the blankets. He could feel in his bones that this was going to be one of those long recoveries, the kind he really hated because they left him feeling so useless and stupid.

"It is ever hard to love me?" he found himself asking suddenly. It was a question that had long lingered in his mind, and he was probably too much in pain to think about how much of an idiot he would seem by asking it – that was why it slipped out.

Iruka sighed, stroking Kakashi's hair gently, "Sometimes. But that isn't going to stop me. Didn't anyone ever tell you that the best things in life come out of hardship?"

That rang a faint bell in the back of Kakashi's mind, but honestly he didn't care. He just wanted Iruka, and he was willing to fight for that.

He put on the most innocent face he could manage, "Can I have a kiss pretty baby?"

Iruka laughed good-naturedly, tugging down the mask over Kakashi's face, and touching their lips together patiently, tenderly, and with so much love that it was almost unbearable.

If he noticed Kakashi's tears, he was kind enough not to say anything.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And life begins again

The end of day bell rang, and Iruka had never been so glad in his entire life.

It had been two and a half weeks since the rather disastrous end to Kakashi's covert mission. Arata and his cohorts were facing life in prison, in exchange for revealing to the ANBU everything they knew about the jutsu they had used on Kakashi. Iruka had to admit – just to himself – that it was a rather ingenious creation, that particular jutsu – the ability to be anyone, right down to their chakra. Iruka might have even fallen for the ruse if Arata had known Kakashi well enough – and been a better actor.

No doubt the ANBU would put the jutsu to good use.

For Iruka, the punishment didn't seem to be enough. Not that he would champion a death-sentence for anyone (except maybe Uchiha Itachi or Orochimaru). But what he really wanted was a good ten minutes alone with Arata – after the bastard recovered from his fractured skull of course.

It was always good to start fresh with those sorts of things, he thought. And it didn't seem fair to beat on a man who could barely stand up, and fairness was supposed to be one of the things that separated him from men like Arata.

That and decency, common sense, and a modicum of intelligence – just to name a few positive character traits.

Kakashi spent three days in hospital before the medic would agree to release him into Iruka's care. True to form, he had recovered as well, if not better, than anyone expected. It was supposed to be Kakashi's first day back on regular missions, and Iruka had spent the entire day worried sick about how his lover would fare back in the field. Hopefully – _hopefully_¬ – they wouldn't expect him to go straight back to S-class missions. If that was the case, Iruka was going to have to give _someone_ a very stern talking to.

Iruka thought about going to the mission desk to ask about Kakashi, but that would probably seem clingy, and he hated seeming that way, hated the joke that Izumo liked to make about him being Kakashi's _wife_.

Like Izumo was one to talk anyway.

He tried not to rush too much on the way home, tried not to seem too anxious, because really, there was a chance – a good chance – that Kakashi wouldn't be there at all.

Which of course made him worry even more.

He tried to tell himself that he was being foolish, that Kakashi could take care of himself. The older man had been saying for days that he was feeling fine, better than fine even. But there was always that possibility – that tiny possibility – that something could go wrong; some injury might act up at the worst possible moment, and Kakashi was notorious for pushing himself too far.

Iruka put on the best air that he could manage of complete ease of mind as he walked – not ran – home. He strolled casually up the street, paused to talk with a neighbour, thumbed through the mail from the mailbox – and all the while his heart was going a mile a minute, nearly choking him.

When he stepped into the house and saw Kakashi's sandals just inside the front door his relief was too much for words. He couldn't even call out to announce that he was home; all he could do was drop his bag, kick off his sandals, and go hunting.

Kakashi wasn't hard to find. He was in bed, apparently asleep. He was also apparently freshly showered, and hadn't bothered to dress himself after the fact. He was sprawled on the bed, still-damp hair combed back from his face, modesty just barely preserved by a (tiny) section of the pale-blue bed sheets.

And whatever dream he was having, it was a very, very good one.

Iruka swallowed thickly, and braced himself against the doorframe. Kakashi had claimed he was completely healthy for a few days, despite that he had been victim to strange pains and bouts of sudden fatigue for two weeks – something that wasn't exactly conducive to doing anything intimate.

It had been a long couple of weeks, and Iruka would have been instantly turned on by the sight of Kakashi all laid out and aroused if not for the fact that he was so annoyed.

Well, okay. He was still a little turned on.

"Honestly…" Iruka bit back a sigh, "I spend my whole day worried sick, and here you are playing tent-pole."

Kakashi's blue eye cracked open. He looked down at himself and smiled.

"I was having a really nice dream…" he murmured sleepily.

"I can tell," Iruka chuckled, "How was your mission?"

"Boring…" Kakashi stretched languorously, like a contented cat, running a hand over his chest and down his stomach, fingers almost grazing the top of the sheet. Watching him made Iruka's mouth go dry, "C-rank scroll delivery. I was bored out of my mind the whole time."

"That's a shame. Can't have a genius Jonin being bored."

Kakashi shrugged nonchalantly, tucking one arm behind his head while the other hand continued to roam across the bare parts of his chest. Iruka felt the muscles in his abs shivering in response, "It wasn't all bad. Gave me time to finish my new Icha Icha novel."

"Ah," Iruka licked his lips – a terrible tell, "So that's why."

Kakashi nodded dolefully, still smiling, "There's something I can't figure out though."

"And that is?"

Kakashi's hand travelled a long, slow line from the hollow of his throat to the very edge of the sheet, and his fingertips slipped beneath, pushing it down just enough that Iruka could see a tiny patch of silver hair beneath his belly-button, "Why I'm over here like this, and you're still standing over there."

Iruka choked on air. He had been half-hard just looking at Kakashi lying there, but the invitation was enough to remedy the "half" part of it.

But still.

"You're…" he managed, "Supposed to be resting."

"I have been resting," Kakashi countered, "Just now I was. I was having this dream about you – you were…"

"Don't," Iruka commanded sharply, rubbing at the scar on his nose then pressing a hand over his face before sliding one finger between his lips and biting on the tip, trying to use the pain to steady his breathing. Kakashi could do this _thing_ with his voice – Iruka didn't know exactly how, something about the tone, rhythm – something – and listening to it long enough, Iruka could come without so much as a touch. Kakashi didn't even have to say anything dirty or particularly arousing, it was just something in the way he used his voice that did it. It was amazing and embarrassing all at once.

Kakashi grinned in a way that was entirely too smug, and Iruka decided that something had to be done.

He stepped into the room, shutting the door smoothly behind him, and began to undress while Kakashi watched with barely constrained anticipation. Iruka pulled the hair tie out first, smirking more at himself than to himself, trying not to let a cheap porno movie soundtrack creep into his mind as he put one foot up on the bed, tugged off his wraps, and tossed them towards Kakashi. The Jonin threw back his head and laughed, and Iruka couldn't help but chuckle along, feeling his face flush as he tugged down the zipper on his vest and shrugged it to the floor, swaying his hips in the process. He pulled the shirt off next, taking the headband with it, and then kicked his way out of his pants, but Kakashi stopped him when he had his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his boxers.

"Not yet."

Iruka raised an eyebrow, "You sure?"

Kakashi pushed himself up on the pillows and reached a hand out, entreating, his face suddenly very serious, "Just come here."

Iruka obeyed, if only because it seemed unfair not to, the way Kakashi was looking at him. He crawled up the length of Kakashi's body with the Jonin's hand sliding over his shoulder to rest at the small of his back once they were nearly nose to nose.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," Kakashi pecked his lips chastely, "nothing. I'm just glad."

"About what?"

"Nothing," another chaste kiss.

Iruka chuckled, "Nothing's wrong – except that you're glad – about nothing at all."

Kakashi nodded. Iruka's tongue darted out to lap once, briefly, at his lower lip, making the Jonin shudder. They kissed deeply, tongues searching. Iruka pressed a hand to Kakashi's chest, fingers roaming over the warm, planes of Kakashi's stomach, charting the raised lines of old scars. When he drew back Kakashi followed, latching on to where Iruka's neck met his shoulder with hungry lips, sucking on tender skin.

"You're going to leave a mark," Iruka gasped, too delighted by the contact to push Kakashi away.

"Good…" Kakashi whispered, breath hot and moist against Iruka's skin.

Deciding two could play at that game, Iruka's teeth found the flesh of Kakashi's shoulder and worried enthusiastically. Kakashi hissed softly and Iruka pulled back.

"I'm sorry, did I…"

Kakashi silenced him with a smothering kiss, nearly pulling Iruka's tongue out of his throat, and using one of those moves only Jonin are capable of, reversed their positions so that Iruka was the one pressed back against the headboard with Kakashi straddling his hips.

"I'm not made of glass pretty baby."

"I know that," Iruka locked his arms around Kakashi's waist, pulling him as close as possible until the Jonin's cock bobbed against his stomach, making Kakashi's gasp and grunt.

"You've been treating me like I am."

Iruka shuddered as Kakashi's reproachful tongue licked a hot line from his shoulder along his collar bone and down, gliding over a nipple.

"You were injured," Iruka shuddered, delighted.

"Not anymore," Kakashi tugged on the waistband of Iruka's boxers, growling softly in frustration when they refused to move until Iruka lifted his hips, "I know my own limits."

Iruka snorted blithely, grabbing Kakashi's chin and making the Jonin look into his eyes. The tomoe of the Sharingan spun slowly, pausing and speeding up in time with Kakashi's breathing. There couldn't be very many people in the world, Iruka reflected, who could look so deeply into the Sharingan without fear. He traced his fingers along the line of Kakashi's eyebrows, over his temple, across his cheekbone and then down to his lips following the line of the rough scar.

"I know you're not made of glass Kakashi," He murmured reverently, feeling the scar more carefully, trying not to imagine how much it must have hurt, "You're probably stronger than I could ever be."

"There you go again," Kakashi sighed, "giving yourself too little credit. I wouldn't be with anyone who I didn't think was strong enough to handle all the shit that comes with being around me."

Before Iruka could say anything in response, Kakashi slid two fingers into his mouth, effectively silencing him. Iruka decided to just go with it, coiling his tongue around the invading digits, tasting soap and skin, watching the lustful, delighted grin that spread across his lover's face.

Kakashi drew his fingers out, glistening with saliva, a single, sticky tendril still connecting them to Iruka's lips, and traced them down his own neck, his chest, all the way to the tip of his throbbing arousal.

Iruka laughed, giddy and strangely nervous the way he always seemed to be when he and Kakashi were in bed together, "Damn…when you do that…"

"It makes you want to do terrible, unspeakably erotic things to me," Kakashi burrowed his face in Iruka's shoulder, half-panting, half-laughing, "I know."

He offered his fingers up again for Iruka to suck on, and left Iruka to watch, aching, as brought them this time around his hips and began to prepare himself.

"Gods…" Iruka closed his eyes and let his head loll back against the headboard, "I can't even watch when you do that."

Kakashi laughed, and then groaned softly, his breath hitching, back heaving. His head was still pressed hard into Iruka's shoulder and Iruka could feel his eyelashes fluttering against his skin with each preparatory stroke. Finally, when Iruka thought he was going to lose it just watching the flush crawl up to Kakashi's shoulders, listening to the little sounds of need the Jonin was making deep in his chest, Kakashi drew his fingers out, pulled Iruka's hips forward sharply, and began, with a slowness that was almost as painful to watch as it was to experience, to lower himself onto Iruka's cock. It took all of Iruka's control not to thrust upwards into the waiting heat and tightness; he fisted one hand in the sheets for purchase, ran the other up and down Kakashi's back to help keep the Jonin's muscles loose, and waited for Kakashi to adjust.

When Kakashi moved for the first time, pure bliss rolled all the way up Iruka's spine, making lights dance behind his eyes.

"Oh _gods_…" he breathed roughly, tilting his head to kiss and lick at Kakashi's neck. There was a tiny scar there, just under his ear, where someone had once tried to slit his throat, and the delicate rise of scar tissue throbbed in time with Kakashi's heartbeat. Iruka carefully shifted his hips as Kakashi moved, and he knew that he hit just the right spot when Kakashi made a noise that was half a groan, half a mewl and his cock spat pre-come, hot and thick, onto Iruka's belly.

Kakashi gripped Iruka's shoulders like a man clinging to the one rock in a raging river, silver hair tickling Iruka's back, breath hot and damp on Iruka's neck, making small, helpless, pleasured noises with each rise and fall of his hips, while Iruka's hands fluttered across his back, sometimes settling on his hips to adjust the other man's movements, but just as often roaming, unable to have enough of Kakashi's skin at any given moment.

"Mine…" Iruka gasped unconsciously as he lapped the salt from Kakashi's temple, adjusting the curve of his spine so that Kakashi's eager arousal rubbed against the slick spot he had created on his stomach, "Mine…"

Kakashi shuddered, once, twice, nearing completion, and Iruka gripped his hips, urging him to keep moving, pulling him down deep. Kakashi yelled, back bowing, and was spent, the tremors that wracked his body pushing Iruka over the edge.

"Don't move," Iruka panted softly, pressing one hand into the small of Kakashi's back to keep him from moving away while he savoured the last fluttering contractions of the Jonin's muscles. Kakashi whimpered and panted, and seemed torn between the need to bring relief to his over-sensitized flesh, and the desire to stretch out the moment of pleasure for as long as he could.

Finally they both bowed to the inevitable, and curled together in the sweat-rumpled sheets, spooning and stroking and kissing their way through the afterglow.

"We shouldn't do things like that so early in the day," Iruka laughed, watching Kakashi's fingers playing connect the dots with the freckles and scars across his tanned chest, "now I'm all sleepy."

"Ah…" Kakashi nodded sagely, "Endorphins."

"M-hmm…" was all Iruka could manage, combing his fingers through Kakashi's still-damp hair.

"Well," Kakashi threw an arm over Iruka's waist and snuggled him rather ferociously, "How about this – we have a little nap, say an hour or so, then we have a shower…maybe some shower-sex…"

"I like shower-sex," Iruka murmured playfully, "all warm and wet and slippery…"

Kakashi laughed, continuing, "Then we can go somewhere for some dinner, maybe that little place with the really good chow mein. And after that we can come home, watch a movie, have sex and go to bed."

Iruka gave Kakashi what he hoped was a very serious look, despite that he was trying very hard not to laugh, "I can't help but notice that this plan of yours – ingenious though it is – involves quite a bit of sex."

"Of course," Kakashi nuzzled his shoulder with far too much glee, "we have weeks to make up for."

"Do we have to do it all in one night?"

Kakashi laughed and kissed the pulse point in Iruka's neck, "You lack imagination pretty baby – we're only scratching the surface. I was thinking tomorrow we could…"

Iruka silenced him with a very sound kiss and wriggled out from underneath the Jonin until he had him pinned resolutely to the bed, "Nap time now."

Kakashi made a half-hearted attempt at escape, likely more as an opportunity to grope Iruka, then relented, curling around the Chunin and closing his eyes. Iruka took a deep breath and closed his eyes too, letting the rhythm of Kakashi's heartbeat and breathing – as steady and sure as life itself – lull him into the beginnings of a pleasant sleep. Just as he was slipping into a doze, he thought he heard Kakashi murmur – perhaps already half-asleep himself – "I'm yours pretty baby, for as long as you'll have me."

-End-


End file.
